


Of angels and wings.

by freecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alcohol, Angels, Bonding, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Dean is a Sweetheart, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enochian, Hunter Dean, Hurt, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Bond, Misunderstandings, Past Character Death, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, Torture, Trust Issues, Violence, Wing Grooming, Winged Castiel, Wings, a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freecas/pseuds/freecas
Summary: The end justifies the means - Dean had learned that the hard way. It didn't matter how he found the angel who killed his mother, as long as he did. That's how it was in his life. Well, until Dean makes one tiny mistake, which maybe turned out to be not that tiny.Or.The one where Dean accidentaly bonds himself to Castiel.





	1. “Castiel does not belong with us anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. As a part of my New Years resolution I decided to teach myself finishing something I've started. And I have like tons of fics that I've started on my pc. This one's one of my favourites and I hope I'll finish it before finding a new job :).  
> Enjoy, guys!  
> 

“Mommy, look! An angel!” a small, excited voice was followed by a tiny hand pointing to the sky.

Dean glanced in the direction just in time to see a pair of huge wings disappear behind the trees. When he turned back, the girl’s mother was already dragging her back to their car. Dean threw away empty cup of coffee and got into the Impala.

You couldn’t blame the woman for reacting the way she did. Since their very appearance, angels had aroused all variety of emotions in humans. And the longer their stay on Earth, the bigger the tension between the two species roused.

Dean had not been there to know the world where angels were just mythical creatures portrayed in different forms of art. As long as Dean could remember, angels were murderers and assholes. At least his father and half of the US population was convinced in that.

Dean lowered the sun visor as the morning rays peeked over the long road spreading ahead of him. He gripped the wheel tighter feeling his heartbeat speed up. He didn’t want to think of what was going to happen today nor did he want to go through his plan for the tenth time that morning. Instead, he picked up his phone and made a call.

Sam’s answering machine was exactly what Dean had expected.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, after Sam’s voice had explained that he wasn’t there and had asked to leave a message.  Dean cleared his throat not knowing what to say. He hadn’t spoken to his brother since their father had passed away. And those few times they had exchanged texts weren’t as heartwarming as one could imagine.

“Bobby’s cabin in two days. Hopefully I’ll have something to show.”

Dean hang up.

In all the hundreds of things he had wanted to say that sentence wasn’t exactly the best one. He winced throwing the phone to the empty seat beside him.

It took him about two hours to get to the paled forest. Dean parked the Impala on the side of the road studying the place. The forest was prohibited for all the humans to enter. It was the sacred place for supernatural creatures as animal protectors and those Greenpeace-freaks had audacity to call it.

There were several parks like that all over the country and they made hunters like Dean furious. But the government insisted on having them anyway, because, apparently, people in power failed to see the difference between monsters and animals.

Dean got out of the car. He shoved the knife into his right shoe and covered it with a trouser leg. He hid the gun into the belt in front, another one – behind him. Then he pulled his jacket off and lifted up the sleeve. Using a small penknife, he carved a sigil into his arm. Dean wasn’t sure how exactly the sigil system worked but he really hoped it did. The one he carved into his skin was supposed to hide his presence from the angels long enough to give him time to finish what he had planned. At least the book said it should.

Dean cleared blood from his arm quickly and pulled the sleeve down. Then he grabbed two bags from the trunk and pulled them over his shoulder.

Without any further ado, he threw the bags over the fence and jumped over it. Getting inside the prohibited place had to be the easiest part of his plan.

The forest looked ordinary, apart from occasional roars that didn’t belong to any animals but to some kind of monsters that, for some reason, were not considered monsters.

Even though the creatures living here weren’t dangerous for human’s lives per se, Dean was alert. He had never trusted supernatural, and he wasn’t about to start doing it now.

The place Dean was heading to was at the furthest part of the forest, but he was able see from where he was standing already – the high cliff towering over the entire forest. Even though he couldn’t see the angels yet, he knew they had to dwell there.

Stepping out of the forest, Dean froze in awe. He was not the one to admire supernatural, don’t mistake. No, Dean was a hunter. His job was to capture and sell for as high price as he could possibly get.

But he could not help it. He had to savior the moment before the creatures would fly away.

Their wings were twice as wide as average humans’ height, the most amazing colors, ranging from pure white to the darkest black. He saw rare brown and gray shining in the morning sun and couldn’t help but stare.

Dean swallowed, tightening the hold over his bag. He was prepared, he reminded himself. No matter how big and strong the wings were. Dean had a way of weakening them enough for him to handle.

He dropped the bag on the ground as quietly as he could and squatted down next to it. He took out the rifle and checked the bullets. Small sigils were carefully carved into the very tips of each one.

Dean sighed and raised the rifle. Through the rear sight, he could see the angels much clearer. He swallowed nervously. Seeing the angels so close, so clear, so easy – Dean had to calm himself down.

The angels on their part mostly looked like ordinary humans. Dean spotted nothing to differ them – apart from the wings, of course. They were wearing nothing but light colored fabric over their bodies, as if they indeed were the angels from the old paintings.

Dean frowned. It was hard to aim at them, when they were moving and the ones who were just sitting on the edge of the cliff were too far away for Dean to risk.

He cursed under his breath quietly.

A pair of black wings unfolded in Dean’s sight. Dean waited for them to leave, but they lingered there for couple of more seconds, giving him just the moment he needed to make up his mind.

Dean swallowed, his finger touching the trigger.

That had to be the easiest target Dean had ever had a chance to shoot. Still, he had to consider it.

After this his life was going to change. After this, the goal, the whole purpose of his training would come to an end. If everything went right, Dean would be free from his Father’s vengeance.

There was nothing to consider.

The shot resonated through the entire forest, arising hundreds of claps of tiny wings all over it. After a moment of silence, Dean heard an almost human scream. The pair of huge black wings convulsed and then the angel was falling.

Dean blinked out of stupor and ran towards him.

About twenty angels now being able to see him flew in his direction. Dean took out a gun and fired up. A bright red light colored the sky and Dean saw as angels were thrown aback with unseen force.

Dean didn't waste time to congratulate himself as two out of two ideas had worked out by far. Instead, he picked up his speed, the wounded angel spread on the ground visible to him now. There were others surrounding him trying to get him up. When they noticed Dean they made a circle around their wounded kin and puffed their wings. They didn't attack at once as if hoping to scare Dean off with their posture.

That gave him time to shoot again. The rocket flew right above their heads throwing them away. Dean got to the wounded angel before the red light reached his body. Dean covered the fallen angel’s body feeling a sharp rush of wind hit his back. The light was powerful against angels, but it was just a light breeze for Dean.

The angel beneath him was shifting, his fingers grasping the ground. His wings lay on both sides of his body heavy under their own weight. Dean could see the exact place where the wings started, where they formed out of his shoulder blades. He could see the place where he shot the angel, even the blood on the ground. Red and thick.

Dean watched as the angel pushed his hands against the ground, struggling to get Dean off him. Small gasps left his mouth as his body shook under the weight thousands times stronger than he had ever been able to carry. Or so the book had said.

The moment the light behind him had vanished, Dean pushed the angel down to the ground, his knee secure on the guy’s back.

Other angels quickly regained control over themselves and started flying back to them. Dean took out the knife from his shoe, his left hand gripped the angel’s neck as Dean started carving a sigil right between the place the wings met his body. It took him a couple of seconds, long enough to be surrounded by huge wings again.

After cutting the skin on his palm as well, Dean threw away the knife. The angel beneath him froze for a second as if realizing what was happening, giving Dean a perfect opportunity to cover the scar with his bleeding hand.

“Gohus!” He shouted, the words familiar in his mouth. He knew that angels around him stopped moving. They stared at him waiting for Dean to continue. Dean caught his breath now that there was no time limit. The blood beneath his hand felt hot.

“Dooiap mad. Aspt tol de elasa. Par train noas ozien,” Dean shouted to the angels that had gathered into a circle around them, “Cacrg ge poilp saanir teloc qta mad.”

Dean hadn't even finished talking when the scar beneath his hand started to glow. A bluish light shined through his fingers. Dean heard gasps and the angel beneath him turned his head and stared back at Dean wide-eyed.

Then everything was white.

In a second, Dean felt everything: the forest beneath him, as he was flying, the sky high above him as he reached for it, gasping for breath. The stretch of strong wings behind him, carrying him between trees, above seas. He could touch clouds and feel them flow down his hands in drops. He could climb the mountains and let go at the last moment to fall down, knowing that his wings would carry him to matter what. His heart beat much faster he forgot it belonged to him…

And then he was falling.

“Castiel!”

Dean opened his eyes, breathing hard. He was in the forest again gripping the angel and surrounded by the ones like him.

“Let me go!” Dean's eyes followed the direction of the voice, “Let me go!” a young redhead female was held by two other angels as she struggled to run to the center of the circle.

“Annael, no,” another angel walked up and rested his hand on the female's shoulder. He looked young but his eyes were old. When his mouth moved, it formed different sounds compared to what Dean was hearing, as if he was watching a foreign movie with a good voice acting.

“He does not belong with us anymore,” the angel said.

“How do you know that? Let's forget all this! Throw away the human and forget this has ever happened!”

Dean noticed other angels raise their wings clearly supporting the female. His hand left the spot where he was holding the angel’s neck and grabbed his gun from beneath his belt. He had 11 more weakening bullets in his gun, and 12 more in his pocket. Surely, that would never be enough but Dean Winchester was not going down without a fight.

He didn’t have to though. When he looked up no one had their wings up anymore. Their eyes were pointed strictly to their kin. Dean followed their gazes. The place where he expected to see a still bleeding scar between the angel’s wings, he saw nothing but a small black symbol as if made in ink.

A pair of huge blue eyes were staring at Dean.

The guy was scared and confused. He wanted Dean to go back to the damned place that he had crawled out of.

“Castiel does not belong with us anymore,” the angel repeated, louder now for everyone to hear.

He turned around throwing one last glance at Dean and flew away. All the others followed him shortly behind. The female still lingered, her eyes were full of tears. She raised her hand and then lowered it on her chest closing her eyes. Dean raised the gun at her but she flew away not even noticing it. And like that, they were alone.

Okay, that was easy.

Maybe a bit too easy.

Dean didn’t move until he was certain the angels had left. They flew away, probably to the other end of the forest.

It was now exceptionally quiet. When the wind settled down Dean could distinctly hear the angel’s breath beneath him. The wings shifted, struggling to pull up again, but after several attempts fell to the ground.

The angel glared at Dean, his eyes full of rage.

“Yeah, yeah,” he shrugged, grabbing his gun from the ground, “You’ll have lots of times to tell me what you think of me. For now, I’d like you to stay quiet. Can you do that, feather face?”

The angel gave him another glare and raised his wings again. They tore off the ground for a whole second before falling back down. The angel was breathing hard.

Dean sighed, “I asked you nicely.”

He hit the angel in the head with the ruffle of the gun. The blue eyes closed and his head hit the ground.

Dean winced. He didn’t want to do that, but there was no way he was having an angel struggling to get free in his car. He still wasn’t sure how long the sigil was going to work, so he couldn’t risk.

He got off the angel and squatted down next to him, examining the place where he hit him. Dean touched the forehead, felt the skin beneath the dark hair. When he was sure that the guy wasn’t bleeding there, Dean breathed out. He should to be fine.

Except for the part where he was bleeding from his shoulder.

Now with the threat of being killed by the angels not hanging above his head anymore, there was a question of safely transferring the angel to the Bobby’s place (preferably, before he had bled to death).

Usually, Dean wouldn’t care about broken bones or scars on his prey. Monsters were monsters, they got what they deserved. But this was whole other case. Dean wasn’t going to sell the angel, nor was he going to bury him some place far from humans. He needed the angel alive and in good shape. So, the question of transportation still stood.

Dean grabbed the man and pulled him over his shoulder, trying to get the wing off his face. The angel was not heavy, he was much lighter than any grown man of his size should be. Dean thought that had to do something with him being an angel and flying.

He walked to the place where he had left his bags, feeling a bit lucky to find them untouched. He dropped the angel down beside them.

Dean took a piece of fabric out of the bag and expanded it on the ground. He moved the angel onto it, carefully moving the wings. Dean noticed the angel’s blood all over his hand where he was holding him by the shoulder.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed under his breath. He couldn’t take the bullet out, at least not yet.

Instead, Dean tore off another piece of fabric and tied it firmly over the guy’s shoulder. That shouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding, but at least it could slow it down enough so that angel wouldn’t die in the car.

Dean tucked the wings under the corners of the fabric. Throwing the bag over his shoulder again, he grabbed the corner of the cocoon he created and dragged it behind him.

The most difficult part was getting the angel over the fence. Even though the angel was lighter than an average human, Dean still had difficulties with getting him above the fence.

After some time struggling to get the body up, Dean jumped over the fence. He managed to get the angel on the top of the fence and with one last tug the unconscious body was falling down.

He caught the angel with a surprising ease.

Dean wrapped the guy deeper into the fabric and crossed the road quickly, hearing the noises of cars in the distance. The angel wouldn’t fit into the trunk, Dean had known that even before he had captured the guy. Dean opened the door to the back seat and gently pushed the angel there. After that he quickly tied angel’s hands and feet together. He also tied the place at the wings’ base, so that he wouldn’t be able to fly even if he somehow managed to regain control over his body.

Dean checked the knots again and straightened up.

Wow.

He did it.

He had actually captured an angel and it wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet. Needless to say, Dean had really expected that day to go differently.

After some time of calming down, Dean got into the car, adjusting his rearview mirror so he could see the angel in the backseat. The creature looked more like a pile of dirty laundry than a scary monster.

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Son of a bitch. You did it.”

The engine went to life.


	2. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam gets closer to the solution of what Dean had actually done to himself and the angel, Dean thinks that the angel is messing with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast and furious chapter two! AKA let Castiel speak ^^  
> I'm sorry for Dean's harshness in this one. But the dude feels like crap, give him some credit.

“Is that––”

Dean nodded.

“ _Really_?”

Dean nodded again.

“And you did it all by yourself?”

Dean gulped from the bottle of beer and shrugged, “You sound surprised.”

Sam paced the room, occasionally stopping and asking all kinds of stupid questions. Much to Dean’s surprise he did as Dean had asked him to and arrived to Bobby’s cabin not long after Dean. He helped Dean get the guy into the basement. And while they waited patiently for him to wake up Sam expected Dean to answer all kind of crazy questions.

 “Are you okay?” he asked for the third time and Dean rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been through this. I’m fine, Sam.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped and he swallowed, “I know, it’s just––” he sighed, “You did it, Dean. You actually _did it_.”

Dean couldn’t help a smile that appeared on his face, so he gulped the beer again and shrugged, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

Sam was concerned, but he was proud. He was actually proud of him. The “ _stop it with all the supernatural stuff and let’s have a normal life”_ brother of his was standing in front of him and practically saying that Dean had done something good. And Dean wanted to tell him that they could have done it together, did Sam not walk out on him several years ago for a girl and a chance of being a lawyer.

He didn’t say any of that.

Sam was standing there, talking to him, smiling with him, and for a little while that was enough.

The angel groaned from the basement and the brothers’ attention was back on him. Dean grabbed the gun and offered Sam another.

“Each bullet has a symbol carved into it. Anything happens – don’t hesitate.”

Sam took the gun after a mere moment of hesitation.

They entered the room, weapons tucked under their shirts. The angel greeted them with a hateful glare, that made both of them swallow hard. Dean had to remind himself, that the guy was completely harmless. Tied to a chair, in a room covered with sigils, with handcuffs covered in sigils and the bullet still in his shoulder, his wings tied tightly to his back, the guy had to be completely weak.

And the hatred in his eyes served as a proof.

“Castiel, right?” Dean asked, straightening up. He remembered the name from the conversation between the angels that he had encountered that morning. The angel stared at him, his mouth covered by a piece of cloth, just in case, not confirming nor denying the question.

“Look, it’s gonna be much easier for you _and us_ if you cooperate, okay?” The guy still glared at him, “Tell you what. I’ll ask you some questions, you’ll answer them honestly. Bing-bang-boom –– you’re outta here before you know it. How’s that sound?”

Dean expected the same reaction from before – no reaction. But this time the angel tilted his head to the side, dropping his gaze, his eyebrows knitted, as if considering it.

Sam and Dean shared a confused look.

“I’m gonna let you speak now,” Dean said, stepping closer to the angel, “Don’t try anything funny.”

The angel glared at him again, his breath fastening. He started suddenly, as if realizing how close Dean was standing to him. He shifted in his sit trying to get away; the cuffs rattled loudly. He was scared.

Dean stopped at once, bringing his hands up in a surrounding motion, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Wide eyes scanned Dean, his hands, his face, calming down a little bit and when Dean tried to move again, the angel shifted in his sit again, this time strong enough to move the chair.

“Whoa–Hey!”

“Dean!” Sam shouted from behind, “I think… I think that’s enough.”

Dean nodded and stepped back, watching the angel’s chest rise and fall as he took deep breaths. He looked like a scared wild animal. And for some reason Dean felt like an complete asshole.

The brothers left the room, closing the door behind them. They didn’t talk for some time while Sam made some tea and Dean drank another bottle of beer.

Sam was the one to break the silence first. “He needs time to… get used, I guess.”

“The dude’s tied up in the basement of an asshole who shot him and took him away from his family. Time doesn’t change shit.”

Sam stopped whatever he was doing at looked back at Dean, “He’s an angel, Dean, a monster. A killer.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a killer too. Don’t mean I wouldn’t be terrified to be in the situation he’s in right now.”

Sam looked surprised, and Dean suddenly realized that he was shouting at his brother and defending a monster he’d been hunting since he could fire a gun. He sighed, his hand running through his hair in a nervous motion.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam asked for the fourth time that day and this time Dean didn’t know how to answer that question.

He asked himself why he suddenly felt bad for the angel, and he couldn’t find any appropriate reason.

It felt like his chest was suddenly too tight. It felt like he had suddenly changed the places with the angel, as if he was the prisoner and the angel was standing above him interrogating.

And for a second there, hovering over him, Dean felt terrified.

“I feel like… he’s messing with my mind or something,” Dean said finally, his hand running over his face, it was wonderfully cold, “Like I exchanged places with him.”

Sam thought for a moment and then shook his head, “The guy’s toast. He’s too weak to be pulling any tricks.”

Dean nodded. Sam was right, too many sigils were holding him back. He couldn’t be strong enough to actually play with Dean’s mind. Still, it felt like he did.

“I think you need some rest. When was the last time you slept more than four hours?”

Dean chuckled under his breath. He had actually forgotten how caring Sam could be when he wanted to. And he would never admit it out loud, but he missed that.

“I’m fine, but… You’re right. I do need some sleep,” he passed Sam and walked to the one of the bedrooms, “See ya in the morning, sasquatch,” he muttered under his breath.

Dean was tired. He was so fucking tired. He wanted to sleep more than anything in the world. But for some messed up reason he couldn’t. He tossed and tuned and every time he closed his eyes all he could think about was the bullet in the shoulder; how much it had to hurt having it still buried inside of the guy. By the time the morning came shining, he could swear he felt the pain from it sting his shoulder.

When he walked downstairs, he felt even worse than yesterday and by the look Sam gave him, he looked the part too.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, pouring coffee into his mug.

Sam licked his lips, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to.”

He walked downstairs, heart pounding in his chest. When he looked into the room, the angel was still there, tied to a chair and gagged. He lifted his head slightly, and from where the light from a small window from the hall fell onto his face Dean could see the furious blues stare back at him.

He closed the door and walked back to the kitchen.

“We gotta make him talk,” he noted thoughtfully, leaning against the counter. Sam gave him a long look before returning to cooking, “ _What_?”

Sam sighed and shook his head, “Nothing, it’s just… After our conversation yesterday I kind of thought that you’d, uhm,” Sam shrugged, “I don’t know. Let him free?”

He winced after the words were out of his mouth, knowing how bad it sounded and he was right. It was a fucking stupid idea. Dean didn’t act _that_ bad. It took him too long to catch the damn thing to let it go just because it was scared.

“No one’s letting anyone free,” Dean grumbled, “How long you’ve got?”

Dean didn’t fool himself, he knew Sam wouldn’t stick around, not for a long time anyway. He probably even came because he had lame classes or something of the kind. University was everything to Sam right now, and no matter how mad that made Dean feel, he could never stand between his little brother and his dream.

“Couple of days.”

Dean noticed Sam purse his lips and didn’t comment on it, “Let’s make the hell outta them then.”

Sam gave him a weak smile and nodded, reminding Dean of the old days, when normal life was not an option and the only thing they were allowed to have an opinion on was which episode of Dr. Sexy was their favorite.

Dean walked downstairs again. He opened the door so that the light from the hall fell on the angel, and made a mental note to fix the lights in the room the moment the angel was gone.

The guy had his eyes on Dean the whole time, while Dean walked to the small coffee table and put his mug on it. Dean could feel the furious glare with the back of his head. He turned around and sat down on the table, rubbing his eyes. Even though he was sitting in the shadows, the angel still stared at him.

“Don’t know about you, buddy, but I had an awesome night. Slept all horizontal, on clean white sheets. Well, you know the drill,” Dean smirked. The angel rolled his eyes as if at once knowing that Dean was shitting him. “How about you?”

Dean waited for the guy to react and spoke again, “And just after I got up from a having a wonderful wet dream I took a marvelous shower. And after that I had a cup of a nice hot coffee and some eggs with bacon. Mhm, I can still taste them on my tongue.”

And just when Dean started wondering if it was working, the angel’s stomach growled loudly, giving a pretty clear notice that yes, it was. Dean suppressed a smile as he watched the angel turn his head away not to give away the blush that creeped on his cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, I’m not a monster. I don’t want you to starve to death, you know,” Dean assured him in the gentlest voice he could, and it worked as well, because when the angel glanced at him again, there was no sign of anger anymore. “It’s just that I think that it would be really hard eating with that thing on your face, what d’ya think?”

Dean saw the angel think about it for a moment and gave him some time. After all, he didn’t want his yesterday’s emotions cross him today as well.

“Want that off?”

The angel watched him stand up and approach him in three steps. Dean could practically feel the fear and anger radiating from him. There was no way on earth this guy would choose to not be touched over some food, water or at least slight bit improvement to comfort.

Dean felt the raw fabric with the tips of his fingers when the angel turned away suddenly, the chair shaking underneath him, going to break any seconds now.

Dean jumped back as angel struggled to get away from him. Sudden feeling of being tied up washed over him and Dean felt goosebumps run over his back.

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered feeling scared, cold and hungry all over again. Whatever this angel was doing to him – it was working.

He threw one last glance at the guy and walked towards the door, grabbing his mug on the way out.

“Suit yourself.”

The door closed with a loud bang behind him.

 

After having some breakfast he and Sam started digging up information about angels and their habits, which – Dean had admitted – he should have done sooner. In his defense, how was he supposed to know that the thing would actually work and he would actually catch an angel?

The day went by quickly. Between reading articles about angels and trying not to react to Sam’s occasional worried looks at him, Dean almost didn’t  think about pain in his shoulder. From time to time Dean felt his head lighten and couple of times he almost fainted. Sometimes he felt hungry even though he had just eaten, but most of the times he was dying from thirst.

“Maybe he’s just projecting his feelings onto you… somehow,” Sam suggested, after Dean’s mind had gone blank again and he had to lean on the wall.

“How?” he grumbled, rubbing his forehead, “ _How_ , Sam?”

He watched his brother shrug, his hair flopping around, “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Dean nodded, “Until then you don’t get down there. I don’t want you feeling this shitty. Me is enough.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue but then thought better of it.

 

Dean was done. It has been _one_ day and he was already done. He had taken all the precautions he could, drawn every sigil from the book he could find, tied the angel in a way there was _no way_ he could be doing anything – but there he was, dying from hunger and thirst and pain in his limbs.

Any kind of sympathy for the guy had disappeared by the time Dean could swear he was going to throw up.

He ran to the basement, a bottle of water in his hands. The room was dark, even darker now that no dim light went through the curtains. Dean grabbed the lamp and turned it on. The angel lifted his head weakly, his eyes opening almost lazily to watch Dean.

Dean closed the door behind him with a loud bang and turned around.

“I don’t care how you do it,” he stated, walking towards the angel, “You’re _doing_ it, and I’m gonna make you stop.”

Dean could see the baffled expression on his face change into fear once Dean was close enough, but this time he couldn’t give a damn.

He put the bottle down and straightened up, “I’m taking that thing off your face.”

His shadow fell on the guy’s face as Dean reached out to the cloth on both sides of his head. He stared into the blue eyes as he slowly pulled the gag down. There was no sign of fear.

Angel closed his mouth and opened it again several times the second when the cloth was out of his mouth. Dean threw it on the ground and gave the angel a moment to get used to the sensations.

His lips were chapped and dry, corners of his mouth were reddish and Dean sighed knowing that it must have hurt. Well, it wasn’t like it was his fault.

He grabbed the bottle of water. “Thirsty?”

The angel glanced in his direction but refused to answer. He didn’t have to though. Dean grabbed his chin and gripped it so the angel had no other choice but to open his mouth.

Feeling of water finally filling his mouth and insides washed over Dean, as the angel struggled to swallow everything that was offered to him.

The angel coughed couple of times and Dean stopped.

“Much better, right?” Dean smiled despite himself and threw the half-empty bottle on the floor next to the gag. He didn’t expect the angel to answer so he turned around and walked to the corner of the room. Dean grabbed a chair and brought it to the center, turning it around. He sat down, his legs on both side of the chair’s back, his hands lying on top of it.

The angel’s eyes had never left him and once Dean was sited, they drilled into him with a new intensity. “Let’s talk business.” Dean noticed the blue eyes squint questionably, so he continued, “I didn’t catch you to torture you. Nor did I do that to sell you. Believe me or not, but eventually I’m gonna let you go. I promise.”

The angel tilted his head in an – adorable? – birdy manner and Dean had to make himself not to glance away. He knew that he was being examined and he let the angel do that. After all, Dean wasn’t lying. Yes, he hated angels with his whole heart, but he wasn’t going to torture the guy just because some – most – of their kind were dicks. He needed to find a certain angel, and his business was with him, not this guy.

“What do you want?”

His voice was gravel and thunder. Like it was coming from everywhere all at once. Dean felt shivers run down his spine.

He shrugged as if nothing had happened, “Information.”

The angel looked lost. He eyed Dean suspiciously, then glanced down where he was tied to the chair, looked around the room, as if searching for answers to the questions he was not allowed to ask. Eventually he sighed and looked back at Dean.

“I don’t understand.” That wasn’t English, nor was it any human language. The words were spoken in Enochian. His lips moved making sounds that were nowhere near to what Dean was hearing in his head, but maybe the angel did something to make communication easier. Dean wasn’t the one to complain.

He leaned forward a bit, “I want answers to my questions. And I’m certain that you could help me find them.”

The blue eyes squinted again and Dean had to lick his lips to hide his smile. He opened his mouth to say something but then just shook his head.

“Castiel, right?” Dean asked again, the way he did yesterday, and the angel’s attention was back at him, “Look, man, I know you’re hurt and hungry and probably want to take a shower. One hour – no more – and you’re as free as an angel can be.”

Dean flexed his shoulders showing Castiel that he _really_ got the pain part, and then he smiled. All he needed were answers.

Suddenly the angel chuckled.

“Free?” Dean nodded confidently. Castiel watched him for couple of more seconds and then sighed, “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

Dean frowned, “Uhm… Wha––”

“ _Dean_!” the door flew open as Sam ran into the room, breathing hard. Dean turned around and his brother looked terrified between him and the angel, “Can I––Can you come here for a sec?”

Sam was visibly nervous when they entered the living room. He walked to the desk, flipped couple of pages in the book lying there, reading, as if making sure that what he was going to say was indeed true.

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes, “Sam, can you get it over with?”

Sam sighed heavily and turned around. “Yeah, okay. Dean, please, don’t freak out,” he said, his hands coming up in a surrendering motion, “But, I, uh, I don’t think that the spell you’ve used to bound the angel… I don’t think it did what you _thought_ it did.”

Dean frowned, “Meaning?”

Sam sighed again and grabbed the book that was lying open on his desk. He brought it to Dean. It was the book Dean had used to get symbols he needed to capture the angel. He looked through the familiar page and then back at Sam, shrugging.

“Dean, it’s… The symbol that you carved into the angel, you translated it as ‘submit’, right? Well, what it _actually_ means is…,” Sam sighed, his shoulders falling, “‘mate’.”


	3. “Untie me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is freaking out, Sam's trying to be a good brother. And Castiel... Well, he just tries to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, chapter three is up and hot from the oven! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed wiriting it ^^. I tried to make Dean's freak out as realistic as possible, but then again nobody has ever told me that I'm mated to an angel, so judge for yourselves :)

Sam cursed his lips and Dean had to blink several times to realize what his brother was saying. And his brother was saying that he… mated an angel? An actual _angel_? A _male_ angel?

No, that wasn’t…

“Are you––are you saying that I––I did _what_?”

He couldn’t make himself word it out as if saying the words would make it more real that it had already been. Sam winced sympathetically.

Dean shook his head slowly, “That can’t––that can’t be hap––” Dean was human for crying out loud! He couldn’t be mated to anyone, it was impossible, “How does it even work?! I mean, I’m male human and he’s––how is this even––”

“Dean, calm down,” Sam said suddenly, his hands cupping Dean’s shoulders softly.

Dean looked at Sam, “Are you––Sam, are you _sure_?”

Sam glanced down and touched the palm of Dean’s hand. He turned it around so Dean could see. In the center of the palm, the place Dean had cut open when bounding the angel, there was a small symbol, just like the one on the angel’s back.

Shit.

Dean ran his hand through his hair, staring at the sigil, “ _Shit_!”

He didn’t want to believe that it had actually happened to him. It _couldn’t_ have happened to him. There had to be a way out. There had _always_ been a way out.

“How do I reverse it?”

Sam shook his head slowly, as if afraid to talk. He pursed his lips again, “There is no way to––Dean’s it’s _mating_. Not a curse or a vampire bite. You don’t cure it, you…” he stopped midsentence looking at his brother sympathetically, “If there is way out, we’ll find it, I promise. But…”

But there more likely wasn’t any.

 _Shit_.

“It can’t––So I’m––I’m… _Fuck_!”

He tried to calm down – he really did, but the thought of being mated to an angel… Dean stared at the symbol on his palm and couldn’t make himself believe it.

How would that even _work_? Were they like married? Like actually married by some fucked up universe notary? What did that even mean? To Dean as a person? Wasn’t he allowed to sleep around anymore? Was he supposed to live with the guy now? Sleep with him? Have sex with him?

And it wasn’t like the angel had any saying in that either. So was it like… Dean mate-raped him? No wonder the guy was scared the hell out of him.

“Dean?” Sam asked carefully, seeing that his brother was freaking out.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean replied more out of familiarity with the words than anything else.

“Uh, are you…? How are you?” Sam sounded worried. Well, no fucking wonder. Try being told that you’re mated to a monster.

Was he okay? Nope. Was he going to be okay? Well, probably.

He needed a drink. But first, he needed to know the answers to all of those questions.

“What is––” he pursed his lips, the voice sounding too gruff. Dean cleared his throat, “What does it actually mean?”

Sam shrugged, “I’m not sure. There’s some vague explanation in the book, but,” Sam grabbed the book and turned couple of pages again, “There’re no rules, per se, but it’s written that, uhm…”

Dean sighed, getting impatient, “How bad can it get? Get over with it.”

“Well, first, both of you will develop a strange feeling towards each other, like, you’ll be very… depended on each other.”

Depended. What the hell does that even mean? Like physically depended? Dean sighed trying to force the thoughts away.

“Both of you would want to spend time together and––”

“Wait,” Dean said, stepping forward, “Time together? Can’t we, well, I don’t know, just pretend it never happened and just, you know… part?”

Sam looked at him wide-eyed, like that was the stupidest question ever. “There’s no apart, Dean. You two… mates can’t live without one another.”

Dean shook his head, “Why _not_?”

“I don’t know! You just––can’t,” Sam shrugged, “You’re depended on each other. You won’t… you won’t want to part.”

Dean chuckled, “I do now, don’t I?”

“Do you?”

The brothers shared a look and then glanced away, suddenly realizing what that had meant. The angel, tied up in their basement and probably dying of thirst and hanger, was part of their lives now.

“What happens if one of us gets hurt or dies?” Dean asked, his voice rough.

Sam sighed, “Mates can’t live without one another. If something happens to one of them, the other… well––”

A long and pregnant pause said it all.

“Shit.”

 

It was past two o’clock that Dean ran out of alcohol to drink. There was no beer or whiskey – even a couple of wine bottles kept by Bobby somewhere in the dark rooms of his house – Dean had drunk them all. He didn’t care.

Sam tried to talk him out of it once or twice, but Dean was persistent. He had asked his brother if he wanted to say a toast to a newly married couple, though, and Sam replied with a bitch face. He tried to explain that it wasn’t like marriage. That mating wasn’t about anything physical – thank you very much for bringing it up, Sammy – it was more of a…

Sam sighed, struggling with words.

“More of a mental bond, really,” he said at last. He winced as his mouth formed the words, not liking the way it sounded.

Dean chuckled into the half-empty bottle of wine. Chardonnay, it said on the label, 2006. It tasted like crap, really, but Dean didn’t give a damn how it tasted as long as it did its job of making him drunk.

“Maybe that’s why you’ve been feeling all those things this couple of days,” Sam continued, his mind occupied, “It can be that he wasn’t doing anything, actually, it was the bond, making you feel all those intense things _he_ was feeling.”

Dean chuckled again ignoring his brother’s look, and sipped the wine. It still tasted like crap. But judging by the way the room beveled, it did its job just fine. Or was it the whiskey he had drunk before, Dean couldn’t tell.

“Well, then I hope he feels _this_ ,” Dean said, gulping wine, “It tastes as shitty as our situation.”

Sam gave him a puppy look, “You shouldn’t drink wine after whiskey, Dean. You… you really shouldn’t.”

“Oh, bite me.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but at this point, Dean didn’t want to hear anything. No more petty talk, no more looking for bright sides of this, no more bond talks.

“No, Sam! No, it’s not gonna be okay, and no, it’s not _fine_!” Dean’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth and for the first time since his teenage years Dean had felt like he was actually drunk to the point where it was hard for him to even form words.

“Dean––”

“Fuck this! I’m mated to a fucking angel, Sam. How can you–– It was our job to… to hunt––to kill or sell or whatever… that _thing_ in our basement isn’t hum––it… has fucking wings, Sam. It kills people, like you and me… it eats their hearts, Sam! It kills people and eats their fucking _hearts_ , man! That fucking monster… I’m––shit… I’m mated to a monster, Sam.”

In the silence that followed Dean could hear the sound of rain outside. Suddenly, it seemed so loud in the silent room. Dean felt his cheeks get hot and wet. Shit.

“Dean, you know that not all of them are like that,” Sam whispered, “So maybe… maybe, he’s different.”

Dean sniffed and shook his head, “Does it matter?”

Sam shrugged and opened his mouth to say something. Both of the brothers started as the noise from the basement shook the entire house. They shared a terrified look and got up and while Sam ran to the basement, Dean tried to make the room twirl less so he could stand straight and walk. But it got worse.

Dean fell as he lost the balance, but before his head hit the floor, he had already blacked out.

 

Dean woke up to the feeling of sore muscles and dry mouth. He cracked his eyes open and rolled onto his back. He was lying on the floor, where he – presumably – fell yesterday.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Sam sounded loud in his head, as he lowered a cup of water next to his brother’s head.

Dean sat up with a groan. His whole body felt like it was breaking down. He took the cup of water and drank it hungrily. “What happened?”

Sam walked past him and sat on the couch, “Well, after you drank the entire house, Castiel, I suppose, felt it. And because the guy has not eaten a thing in two days, he got sick. He threw up and passed out.”

Dean winced, “Ew.”

“Yeah.”

Well, now Dean felt bad for the dude. Not only did he mate-rape him, he also starved and intoxicated him. Well, shit. Dean was a terrible mate.

Mate. Fuck.

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I cleaned him and, um, untied.”

“You did _what_?”

“Look, Dean, the guy was a mess. He’s too weak and exhausted to run away! He passed out, what was I supposed to do?”

Dean shook his head, “Leave him there!”

“To die?”

He was bleeding, hadn’t eaten anything in two days, passed out. The guy was practically dying on them. Of course, Sam would take care of him. Even if the guy hadn’t been Dean’s mate.

Sam sighed, “I got the bullet out, he was bleeding bad. Got him into Bobby’s bed and handcuffed him just in case.”

Dean nodded, “Good call.”

Through the dull ache in his head, Dean could feel the peaceful humming. Soft pillow and blankets and _warmth_ as ray of sun played on his face. He felt the sun.

Oh god.

Dean took the shower much longer than usually. He had to clear his head, to understand what was going on, to see how the situation – now that it wasn’t reversible – could benefit him. He tried to be objective and logical. But all he managed to think about was how much of an asshole he was.

Even if he had no idea what he had done, he still was a huge shinning asshole.

 _Fuck_.

Dean tried thinking about how nice hot shower felt on his body, how he felt clean and fresh. He tried concentrating on the all of the nice emotions.

Maybe he could make it right.

 

When Dean walked downstairs, it smelled like bacon, eggs, and coffee. And Sam was still there with him, looking a little bit lost. Dean smiled to him thankfully.

They shared a nice quiet breakfast and Dean felt like a family once again.

“So, you’re leaving today.” It wasn’t a question.

Sam looked at him with his lost puppy eye look and Dean felt like he was ten years old all over again. And his brother asked them to be normal and couldn’t understand why they couldn’t be. So many years had passed, and it seemed like none of them had an answer to that question.

“I can’t leave you like that, Dean.” Sam said finally, “But I have something important I have to do in the town.”

Of course, Dean had never been an optimist, he wasn’t delusional. Sam had his own life apart from his brother, far away from the danger.

“Give me a week. I’ll come back, I promise.”

 

Dean watched Sam’s car disappear in the distance for the second time in his life. This time it wasn’t that bad, actually. Dean found couple of bottles of beer in the fridge – Sam bought them for him this morning, he assumed. Usually Dean wouldn’t have even thought twice, but right now even the sight of the bottles made his stomach make a funny twist.

Which reminded him –– the angel.

Dean closed the door of the fridge and breathed out. The peaceful buzz was long gone and Dean assumed that the creature was already up. Maybe blocking his emotions or something, now that he wasn’t restrained as much.

Okay, Dean had decided not to be as much of an asshole, right?

Right.

Dean tried not to think twice when he gathered the leftovers and put them on a tray. He poured some water in the glass and didn’t even wonder if he was going crazy.

As Sam had told him, the angel was upstairs. Dean could see him through the gap Sam had left that he sitting on Bobby’s bed. Handcuffed to the headboard.

Dean opened the door with his foot and the creature shifted, staring at him with his huge blue eyes. His wings tied tightly behind him, only tips of them peeking out from behind the angel’s head, his messy dark bed hair. He looked pale and sick. Had his bones sticking out. Dean’s insides twitched in disgust to himself. He made couple of steps to the bed and lay the tray down on the bed sheets.

“Breakfast.”

“Untie me.”

The angel looked almost fierce, frantic and wild. Dean felt like he had an animal in Bobby’s bed and mentally chuckled imagining the old man’s reaction to that. Well, at least, unlike Dean, Bobby would have known the difference between ‘submit’ and ‘mate’.

“Sure thing, I will. After I get another bullet inside of you.”

Speaking of. Dean glanced at the shoulder. Sammy had bandaged it thoughtfully and even carefully. Dean tugged his shoulder unconsciously. The dull pain was still there, but not disturbing as much as it did before.

“Then feed me.”

Right.

“All right,” Dean cleared his throat and sat down on the bed. He felt angel’s wings resist the ropes, felt the creature stiffen beside him, long fingers curling into fists. Dean lifted a fork with scrambled eggs on it. “Here comes the plane.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not tonight, honey.”

Dean wasn’t sure if the hatred he felt belonged to him or to the angel, but he was pretty damn positive the feeling was mutual.

“I’d rather die.”

Dean squeezed his jaws, muttering, “I wish I could arrange that.”

The angel’s gaze softened suddenly. He looked at Dean, his eyes searching now, his head cocked to the side. Like a bird.

Dean held the gaze.

“Oh.”

Dean sighed out, dropping the fork back on the plate. He rubbed his face trying to think. He couldn’t trust the angel, no matter the bond or mating or whatever. But the angel was weak from the wound, his wings were bound tight, and as long as the sigil was somewhere on him he was harmless.

“I’ll uncuff you,” Dean said finally, feeling the angel’s doubtful glare on himself, “But you gotta wear pants, capish?”

The creature frowned but nodded slowly.

 

Dean brought him pants that he had long stopped wearing. He didn’t see the point in giving him a shirt. He also found one of the old bracelets he used to like. A metallic one, it could be secured safely around the angel’s wrist and with the help of a little flame, it wouldn’t be able to crack it open.

Dean carved the sigil on the underside of it.

The angel watched fascinated as Dean melted the lock of the bracelet. Dean then let him out of the cuffs, a gun pointed right towards the creature’s wings in case he tried something.

The angel tried nothing though, as surprising as it was. He rubbed his wrists and straightened his back. With a nod from Dean he took off the dirty rags and pulled on the clothes Dean had brought. The bones stuck out to the point that Dean even started feeling bad for the guy.

And it suddenly hit Dean that if not for the wings this guy was just a one good-looking dude caught in a cross fire.

Once he had finished he looked at Dean as if looking for approval. Dean circled him, gun tight in his hand, checking the ropes on the wings, the bracelet, the freshness of the wound. He dropped the gun and nodded towards the door. They walked downstairs, the guy stepping slowly limping a little bit, the sign that Dean had carved between his shoulder blades still visible. The angel startled suddenly as the kitchen’s smell touched his nose.

Dean felt so fucking hungry.

Dean put the plate with leftovers on the table with a fork and a glass of water, standing securely in the distance and watching carefully.

The guy ate almost civilized, if not using the fork. He dug into the food with his hands and still managed to do so very neatly. His kind lived on trees in the forest, Dean had to remind himself. He was not better than an animal, and looking like a human didn’t make him one.

Dean tightened his hold over the gun.

“Now,” the angel said suddenly, once the plate and the glass had been emptied. “What kind of information do you want from me?” the creature asked surprisingly calm. Dean watched as he cleaned his face and hands with a napkin.

Fucking angels.

There was a ton of questions that Dean had prepared. The questions that had been following his life long before the angel had appeared in his life. Some of them were general questions about his kind, things that made them weak, the strength of the wings, the most height they could fly, the longest hours of the flight. The tribes power dynamic, hierarchy.

There also were personal questions. Like about that dick that walked into their home twenty years ago. The one that stole his and his brother’s normal life, the one that started all of it.

There were thousands of questions in Dean’s mind. And although all of them were important and the sole reason of the situation they had found themselves in, he made a step forward unfolding his palm. “What the hell does it mean?”

The angel’s gaze dropped on the tattooed sigil on Dean’s hand and lifted back on Dean’s face. “You put it there.”

Dean grinded his teeth.

“I know what I did. I’m asking you what the fuck does it _mean_.”

The angel searched for Dean’s eyes a little bit more before speaking up.

“It means that we belong to each other,” he sighed matter-of-factly.

Dean cursed under his breath.


	4. “Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. Your bond-buddy.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel had never imagined he would find himself in a position he was in. Shot by some freak, kidnapped and held hostage, bonded against his own will. And worst of all, right now he felt sorry not for himself but for the person who was guilty of all of those crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bring to you a chapter in Castiel's POV. Just because I could :)  
> Also, a little bit of insight on what the hell is goind on, what that bond is and how differently it affect Cas and Dean :)  
> So, there you. I hope, you enjoy the chapter!

Truth be told, Castiel had never imagined he would find himself in a position he was in. Shot by some freak, kidnapped and held hostage, bonded against his own will. And worst of all, right now he felt sorry not for himself but for the person who was guilty of all of those crimes.

Castiel tried to convince himself that those were not his feelings, but the projection from his crazy kidnapper. However, the truth was – the push was not coming from the other side of the bond. It was all him.

“ _Fuck_!”

Castiel winced as the human –– Dean was it? –– punched the table. Knuckles on his hand bled and Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore.

Don’t be mistaken – he wanted to. He wanted to be furious so fucking much. He wanted to crush this house with the human still inside, he wanted to make him hurt as much as Castiel had been hurting. He wanted the other human to watch them, as Castiel’s family watched him as he had been humiliated, bonded.

Castiel wanted to destroy everything this human had ever loved.

But then he looked at him.

There was no doubt that the human didn’t know what he had done and was as happy with the situation he found himself in as Castiel was. And maybe that way they were not that different from one another.

Castiel pushed his wings unconsciously and the tender skin cut into the sharp ropes. The angel pursed his lips trying not to make any sounds. The human had no idea how much it hurt, but Castiel shouldn’t show him his weakness. Even if the human was his potential mate, it didn’t change anything. They were strangers, enemies even. The human was a hunter, he probably wanted to sell Castiel or something of the kind, even if he had told that he wasn’t planning on doing any of that. There was nothing stopping him.

Well, except for the bond.

“Great,” the human breathed out, “Anything I should know about our situation?”

The human was passionate. His eyes were bright and deep, his features a bit hardened, maybe from the life he’d been leading. He was standing as if always ready to block any attack. Everything about him screamed ‘soldier’, ‘hunter’.

Everything, apart from the delicate prettiness of his face.

Castiel entwined his fingers on the table, “Depending on what you want to know.” The human let out an annoyed growl, “Well, bonding _is_ a fairly complicated process. That is one of the reasons our tribe declined it. It’s simply barbaric.”

Castiel glanced at the human pointedly.

He was nervous, angry. And if Castiel let himself, he could feel the pull of their bond just in the back of his mind. Most likely, unconsciously the human was asking for some kind of help, some kind of confirmation.

Humans didn’t encounter bonds or mating, so this must be new to him.

But it wasn’t like Castiel was running around bonding and mating everyone he had met. It was new to him as well. And with no member of his tribe around he was all alone in figuring it all out.

“Bond is…” Castiel licked his lips, struggling with words, “Profound.”

The human nodded, sitting down at the table across from Castiel, “Okay.”

“It shall not be as intense as it has been, you are human, after all. Therefore I believe that it’s just from the immaturity, youthfulness of it that it has been so…” Castiel glanced at the human, “Demanding.”

The human looked like he expected more, so Castiel continued.

“It may also be that the spirit of our relations,” Castiel was trying to be very careful with the words, and the human was giving him the confused look, so Castiel opened the brackets, “Which have not proven to be sincere or caring in any way – is irritating the bond, making it unhealthy.”

The bond was not wanted neither by him nor by the human, but no matter their desires, it was there. It linked them, soul to soul, and it needed there to be more. Without the sensual emotions, Castiel explained slowly, the bond might weaken. In that way, a sick bond might be like a parasite, sitting inside of them. If it went down, it would take them with it.

“However, it will never fade completely. We’ll still be able to feel each other’s emotions, condition, surroundings – if we allow. If we don’t want it though,” which Castiel believed they did, “We can just shut it down.”

Human was listening him carefully, not interrupting. Like a tiger getting ready to jump his prey. At the last sentence, his eyes brightened. “Meaning?”

Castiel shrugged, “It would still be there, but would not bother us in everyday life. It would only activate in the moments of complete danger.”

The human nodded couple of times, “Sounds good. How do we do that?”

Castiel thought for a second and leaned it, “Have sex.”

The human choked, coughing couple of times, before he could manage a very loud and a very confused, “ _What_?! NO!”

Castiel couldn’t suppress a smile. It was just too hilarious to watch. He let out a huff of laugh and regained himself only when the human glared at him.

“Are you having fun?”

Castiel smiled, “To be honest, I am. Yes.”

The human watched him with unamused look until something touched his hardened features and he had to turn away not to reveal himself.

Castiel was winning 2:0.

“Although the encounter would make the bond stronger, forever prohibiting the shutdown from happening ever,” he mumbled thoughtfully.

“Forget about sex,” the human growled, “How do we shut the… thing down?”

Castiel shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Castiel was not lying. The bonding had been banned in his tribe long before he was born. So it wasn’t like Castiel was a walking encyclopedia of mating. Not that the knowledge might have ever be helpful to him.

“Great.”

They sat there in silence and Castiel once again felt the tug of the bond they shared. He was pretty sure that the human had no idea he was doing it. Castiel tried to ignore it, but the desperation was flowing through the walls he had built up like a smog. Castiel shivered, his wings ruffling against the ropes.

“Your name is Dean, am I right?”

The human started, lifting his gaze. His eyes were tired, red even. Castiel felt a weak tugging in his mind. He hated the bond they shared, but could do nothing about the feeling he started experiencing towards this hardened human.

He reached his hand across the table, “Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. Your bond-buddy.”

The human watched his hand like an animal, observing it, searching for dangers, and then gave up, holding his hand out as well and shaking is slightly. There was a light smile on his face as well, and Castiel was suddenly struck with a thought that Dean was indeed very beautiful.

“Hey.”

The moment their skin touched, Castiel was washed over and drowning, his breath hitching, air stuck in his lungs with no way out. Everything was real and not real at the same time. He was drowning in green, in smells and voices and tears and laughs.

_Dean! It’s my turn to choose! It’s not fair. Don’t be a jerk!_

The fear, love, hopefulness, curiosity, anger, hatred, pride, loneliness… Castiel was drowning.

_I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?_

So full of love.

 “Castiel?”

Castiel shoved up and out, trying to catch a breath.

“Castiel! Hey! _Cas_!”

He was standing in the corner of the room, his hand tugged tightly to his chest, breathing hard. His heart was pounding in his chest as if trying to get free. His legs suddenly gave up and Castiel realized that he was sliding down the wall he had been leaning against. The tender feathers of his wings brushing against the cold hard wall. But Castiel could hardly feel them.

“Hey, come on!”

Castiel felt Dean’s hands lay awkwardly on his shoulders. His hands were warm and he just couldn’t stop himself from leaning in. That bond… it was messing with his head something awful.

“What happened?”

Dean’s voice was suddenly gentle, tone worried. All the hardness was fast gone from his features and Castiel saw the human for what he really was. His head hurt, it felt like his heart had gotten ten times bigger in his chest, crushing his ribs to get free, and Castiel didn’t know what to do with it.

“I don’t know,” Castiel managed, once he had caught his breath.

Dean was sitting so close Castiel could feel the warmth he was radiating. Or maybe it was just the bond playing with his head.

Castiel touched Dean’s hand where it lay on his shoulder and turned it around. The sigil was mockingly unaffected. Castiel traced his finger around it, trying to understand, read. It was Enochian, but old Enochian, the language was almost alien to him. So Castiel had hard time with understanding what it really was.

“Uh, Cas?”

It had to mean so much more than just mating. Mating couldn’t have such an effect on them as whatever was happening to them seemed to have.

He shook his head slightly, “Whatever you did to us, it’s not just mating.” He felt Dean eye him, “You bound us in some way I’m not familiar with. And I don’t understand how.”

“Cas, what the hell happened?” Dean asked again.

Castiel breathed out, “It seems that touching the sigil on your hand makes me… gets me inside of your head… or your heart or something.”

Castiel dropped his gaze, letting go of Dean’s hand. Dean stared at his hand, blinking couple of times as if trying to see whatever the angel had seen, Castiel was ready to give him his time. His chest hurt badly, even worse than his wings, bound tightly to the point of bruising.

Castiel was tired.

“And what exactly did you see?”

“I did not see so much as I… felt,” Dean was sitting so close to him, his other hand still resting on Castiel’s shoulder, big and warm and comforting. Castiel sighed, “I felt Sam, and your love for him. I felt your Father, and your… respect for him.”

There was no respect, only fear and disappointment and both of them knew it.

Dean leaned back on his heels searching for Castiel’s eyes. Castiel looked back, holding his gaze. They were quiet for some time, trying to comprehend the thing that was between them. And if before Castiel could somehow ensure himself that it was going to work out somehow, now he wasn’t so sure about that.

He had no idea what Dean had done to them and it was fucking frightening.

Dean’s hand ran through his hair and he sighed.

“Yeah, okay.” Castiel searched for Dean’s eyes and for some reason, the man was smiling, “So we are damned, what else is new, right?”

Castiel’s chest tightened and Dean’s smiling face was the last thing he saw before everything went black around him.

 

When Castiel came to his senses, the bindings on his wings were much less crushing. He felt a soft blanket on top of him as he was lying his nose buried in the pillow. It smelled like Dean. Castiel made a deep breath and it spread through his entire body. Castiel felt at _home_.

His eyes flew open once he realized his thoughts.

He hated the bond with every fiber of his body.

“Hey,” Dean was sitting behind the desk, waving to him, “You feeling okay?”

Castiel tucked his wings and shoulders under the blanket and sat up. His chest no longer hurt, his head was not spinning. The bracelet still marked him as a prisoner. There still was a tugging sensation in the back of his mind, but he might as well get used to that, he figured.

“I’m fine.”

“I thought that you might wanna read this,” Dean pushed an old big book into his hands and sat down on the coach next to him, “This was my manual basically.”

Castiel turned the book in his hands couple of times. There was no title, author, or the name of the publishing company. He was already feeling suspicious over this thing, but he also was curious. He opened the book on the page Dean had left a bookmark on. There were different kind of sigils drawn and Enochian notes written beside, very few notes in English were written as well but in pencil.

Castiel frowned. Could this mean that one of his ancestors had actually written a book and left it in the hands of the humans? So stupidly and offhandedly?

His gaze ran through the lines of old and modern Enochian blended together in one encyclopedia. The book was obviously a linguistic vocabulary, but unlike those the humans were used to, this one described the power that Enochian – or at least the old language – had over the angels. It described with surprising accuracy the meanings and power of the words that angels had carried throughout the decades of their existence. The way just one simple symbol could power an angel making him almost invincible as well as weaken an angel to the point of breaking him completely.

Castiel shivered, remembering those days in the basement, how his wings, his insides, his body, everything practically went crazy with pain. How utterly powerless he had been.

All the sigils were covered by the pieces of paper – of course – so Castiel could not read any one of them, except the one Dean left uncovered. The one that garnished Dean’s palm.

The text next to it explained the symbol as one of ‘belonging’, but there was more to it. It wasn’t just belonging, it meant more than just physical or mental. There were words in Enochian that simply missed from English language that was why Dean had troubles translating it.

The symbol meant bonding, the joining on much deeper level. The author described it as a link to becoming a one, a god. Belonging, but not to one another as Castiel had first thought it did, but belonging to an emotion, a pure feeling.

Life.

Death.

_Love._

But not only belonging, but becoming. Becoming and controlling the pure energy of human emotions.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and pushed it to compare to the one drawn in the book. He sighed a sigh of relief.

“You drew it wrong,” he stated, humor in his voice, “And because you made that mistake, I might still be alive.”

It felt strangely intimate, sitting with the human like that. It shouldn’t have been, Castiel knew that. Dean was dangerous, he was a hunter, he was an abuser, a killer. He hurt Castiel to the point where Castiel prayed for death to come faster.

But instead of being scared or weary or disgusted Castiel felt content. He didn’t want to leave Dean’s side, didn’t want the warmth to disappear. Of course it was the bond, the sigils carved into their skin, the words spoken loudly, the light bounding them on some universal level.

And Castiel hated that he had no control over his emotions, but sitting there close to Dean, almost thigh to thigh with him, well, Castiel could only do so much not to lean even closer.

 “And what does that supposed to mean?” Dean blinked couple of times, before staring at his hand and the symbol drawn in the book.

Castiel traced the lines of the symbol on the man’s hand, pointing out the difference in the picture. It was just a small mistake, the length of a dash a bare half an inch longer than it should have been, but it was, apparently, enough.

Everything mattered.

Castiel turned his back to Dean, “Same here?”

He felt Dean’s fingers on the tender skin between his wings and bit his lip. The memories of falling face first into the dirt, not being able to stand, to get the wings up – memories clouded his head. But Castiel stood still, letting Dean examine him.

God, he felt so weak and pathetic.

Dean was a monster, a hunter, an abuser. But all Castiel could think about was the warmth of his fingers where they caressed the symbol in the most intimate place on angel’s body.

“Yeah, the same mistake,” Dean stated, “Cas, why don’t _I_ feel emotional overdose when I touch your sigil?”

Castiel breathed out a shaky breath, trying to collect himself. “Because you’re human. You don’t experience the bonding as intense as I do.”

He heard Dean chuckle, “How much more intense can it get?”

Castiel shivered and Dean’s fingers suddenly stopped moving. If there was possibility to want something and not want it at the same time, Castiel experienced it at that very moment.

Fuck, he hated the bond.

There was a long pause before Dean talked, “Being mated to someone you hate sucks, doesn’t it?”

It was Castiel’s time to chuckle, “Thank god, we’re not mated.”

“Wait, we’re… we’re _not_?”

Castiel turned around to the pair of very big and very green and very concerned eyes. He had almost reached out for them, _almost_. Instead, he turned couple of pages over, trying to find the needed article.

“No,” he said simply. And because he felt the desperate tugging on their bond, he decided that there was nothing wrong with explaining it so that the human could understand.

“The bond is like… an engagement ring, it binds you to your couple, but not completely, so you have at least some way out. And then there is the matter of intercourse. After the certain acts that the couple performs, they are mated. And then there is no way back.” Castiel found the article and took the paper off the symbol in one swift motion, “Mating is a wedding ring.”

And there it was. The tiny extra half of an inch made their sigil into the one of mating.

“So, we’re… we’re okay?” Dean asked uncertainly.

Castiel chuckled, “Well, that depends. We’re still bound to one another, speaking for my part, I can feel everything you allow me to feel – and believe me you need to learn how to block your thoughts.”

Castiel glanced at Dean the very moment his cheeks turned _oh so pretty_ shade of pink. Castiel’s breath hitched and feeling of tightening chest returned with a hard punch.

Castiel turned away quickly.

“At least we’re not co-depended, if that’s you meant.”

His voice was hoarse, and for the first time he had put those godforsaken pants on, he was grateful for them. Castiel didn’t know what was happening to him, but the feeling of being too small for everything there was to _feel_ returned.

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, and his voice suddenly sounded so big for the room they were sitting in, or maybe that was just Castiel, “So we’re linked, but not profoundly, right?”

Castiel nodded, trying to catch his breath. He felt droplets of sweat run down his forehead, his neck. His hands trembled where they were holding a page.

“So we just need to find a way to, as you’ve put it, shut it down.”

Castiel could smell Dean’s scent; if he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Dean’s skin hot and demanding against his own.

What the fuck was happening to him?

“Untie my wings.” His mouth moved on his own, not waiting for Castiel to decide or think.

“We’ve been through this. No.”

Dean’s voice was ringing loudly, and Castiel could feel the heat radiating from the man’s body. And he suddenly felt cold–– God, he wanted to touch him so bad.

Castiel curled his hands into fists trying to regain some control over his body.

“Hey, you okay?”

The voice didn’t belong to Castiel when he talked, “Get the fuck away from me.”

After that nothing in his body belonged to him. He watched from aside as Dean tried to talk to him through the smog, but Castiel’s body suddenly stood up, shoving Dean up and throwing him like the man weighted nothing. Like Castiel’s body didn’t hurt to the point of breaking. Like he was still soaring high in the sky, his wings unfolding with a graceful ease.

And all at once sorrow and gratitude washed over Castiel and he had no idea who those feelings belonged to. Because all he could feel was emptiness in his chest that once was so full and so warm.

Castiel didn’t care for pain. He wanted that warmth back.


	5. “See something you like?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Castiel opens up his famly's story to Dean, Dean just happens to open up himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you for all the support! I really love reading your comments, so keep 'em coming ;D  
> I bring to you a little bit inside on the angels' story and also tiny bit intimacy! But not too much. He-he.
> 
> P.S. I also added 'slow burn' tag, because now I realize that this isn't going to be as quick as I thought it would.

Dean had no idea what was going on. It felt like he was drawn to the angel. All it took for him was one minute of carelessness, and his body was moving closer, trying to touch, to caress, to look into those blue eyes.

And it was one of those moments that the angel went all terminator on him. Honestly, any other scenario, the gun would be already fired into the enemy securing Dean’s life.

But this time, gun held tightly in his hand, Dean could only watch as the angel’s wings shifted in its restrains struggling to get free. The angel’s eyes glowed blue and seemed that even the wind around the room started rising.

“Castiel! Hey! Come on, man!”

Dean wanted to shoot. He wanted to shoot so badly. And now that he new that they weren’t mated there was really nothing stopping him from doing that. The angel had told it himself, the engagement ring, not the wedding one, right? So there was nothing actually stopping Dean from pulling the trigger.

But there was something tugging deep inside his head. Some kind of buzz, a whisper, telling Dean that whatever that thing was, it wasn’t Castiel. _It wasn’t Castiel_.

“Cas, it isn’t you!”

Dean felt as if he was playing some kind of a wicked game and nobody cared enough to explain him the rules. Dean tried pulling two and two together and the only thought that came to his mind was that if he had made a mistake once, maybe he could have done it again.

“Fuck.”

Dean wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right, he wasn’t sure in _anything_ at this point, but he sure as hell wasn’t having Bobby’s cabin destroyed, because that man _would_ get out of his grave to tell him off just for that. And Dean didn’t want to weight his chances.

He managed to get closer to the angel, keeping his gun pointed at him and once he got close enough it took just one shot.

The bracelet broke with a silent crack.

The angel’s body fell lifelessly on the floor.

It got deafeningly silent in the room that was once a storm center and Dean breathed out, dropping the gun down.

He hated his life.

“Good shot.”

Dean chuckled walking towards the coach. The angel lay on the floor trying to catch a breath and Dean couldn’t help but wonder, how the fuck did he manage to drag this dude into a situation like this. His life was a mess, he didn’t deny it. But this guy should have never been a part of it.

Dean helped him up, pulling him up by the sigil-less hand, the other one holding a gun securely behind his back. Castiel nodded thankfully once he was standing.

“Remind me to never try and draw sigils ever again.”

And then it hit him. The angel was back to his full angel mode on. Without restrains, without sigils and bounds, the only thing stopping him from killing Dean was the wound in his shoulder. And maybe even with it the angel could destroy Dean easily.

Dean’s hand tightened around the gun as he watched the angel take a breath looking around, as if seeing the room for the first time. Dean made couple of steps backwards.

How could he have been so fucking foolish?

Dean swallowed a limp in his throat. He pulled the gun up, aiming easily. He had a clear shot. It only took one shot. He wouldn’t kill him, just hurt. As he had done before.

“Thank you, Dean.”

There was a moment where nothing happened, and then there were feathers and ropes flying around the room. Dean stopped breathing as huge black wings opened up and occupied almost all the space in the room. Dean could only stare.

And admire.

They were beautiful.

“You really think so?” the angel asked.

Dean snapped out of it, pointing a gun back to the angel, but before he managed to get his finger on the trigger, the creature was on him. It teared the gun from Dean’s hands and hooked one of his wings under Dean’s ankle.

Dean was disarmed and down on his back in mere seconds. The angel was striding his chest, his wings thrown aside, big and threatening and… Fuck.

Dean was aroused.

Couple of minutes went by and Dean could only stare in those blue slightly glowing eyes. He swallowed again, trying to find a way out. His hands were free, thrown to the sides, he had no restrictions other than the very angry angel on top of him.

“See something you like?”

The angel glared, and Dean felt a shiver run down his spine.

Fucking bond. He should be scared, not fucking horny!

“I can’t kill you and you know that.” The voice was loud, growling like thunder in the small space of the room.

Dean cleared his throat. “Nice to know.”

There was silence again, and Dean couldn’t stop himself. “Anything on your mind?”

The bluish glow left the angel’s eyes, his wings dropping a little bit. And if those were the signs of Castiel letting him live, well, Dean was going with them.

“How about, I tie you up and throw you in the basement so you starve for a couple of days or so?”

Castiel’s voice was threatening, his wings shifting so that Dean could observe feathers from much closer distance. And from what he could gather they were pretty fucking sharp. The moment he realized that, the tip of the wing was right next to his neck.

And still, for some reason, Dean was not frightened.

So he shrugged easily, “As long as you enjoy it.”

Those words seemed to do something to the angel. Once they were out, the fierce and wild look on his face changed to something soft and even shameful. Dean watched him swallow and mirrored the motion.

It could be that the bond was pushing them to strengthen it, secure it. Which demanded doing the _certain acts_ , as Castiel had put it. Which, unsurprisingly, was sex.

Which didn’t sound like a bad idea, really.

Castiel was handsome Dean had to admit that. With him sitting on Dean’s chest, Dean could see that the guy was also pretty fit, had a slim hot body, and if Dean allowed himself to think a little bit further, he wasn’t all against it.

After all, he had always been curious. Wanted to try. You know.

And it wasn’t like the angel was against it either. He all but leaned into Dean’s touch, when his hand fell onto Castiel’s thigh.

Dean licked his lips wondering, if it was indeed not a bad idea after all. It wasn’t his worst one at least. It would just secure them, make them closer to each other through pleasure. And really, what could be wrong with that?

Dean’s hand reached up, touching Castiel’s uncovered hipbone. And it felt like hundred tiny needles pierced through the skin of his hand. He felt the angel shiver above him and glanced up. Castiel’s eyes were dark, mouth open. God, his lips looked so inviting.

It wasn’t Dean’s thought – or maybe it was – but once it was out there, the angel was leaning down, his hands on the both side of Dean’s head. And fuck, he was so close. It would only take one leap down.

Dean’s hands traveled up Castiel’s body, over the hot skin and rough bandage, finding the place his skin and feathers met. The angel shivered on top of him and Dean felt like his skin was going to burn. He wanted to touch him, to feel him, to kiss the skin and mark until the angel belonged to Dean whole.

“Dean.”

Oh fuck, that voice. Dean could just make himself drown in it. It made shivers go down his sides, and really, Dean wasn’t the one to protest. He tugged on the feathers slightly watching, as the angel’s eyes got even darker.

“ _Dean_.”

The bond was so warm and comforting with Castiel _this_ close to him. Dean could only imagine what it would feel like being mated to the angel. The feeling of belonging to each other multiplied by thousand.

“ _Stop_.”

Dean blinked. What the––?

Fucking _bond_.

Dean breathed out, now that he had a chance. Castiel was shivering on top of him and Dean turned his head up staring at the ceiling and trying fathom what the hell had just happened. His hands fell down with a dull thud.

_What the fuck._

“It wants us to protect it. It feels unsafe.” Castiel’s voice was shaky.

“It fucking should.”

Dean looked up pointedly, knowing that Castiel’s head was hanging low. His black hair were just barely touching Dean’s chest. And Dean did _not_ want them to do that. He did _not_ want the angel on top of him or anywhere _near_ him.

Dean didn’t… God it felt so good to have Castiel that close.

“Get off me,” Dean breathed out.

Castiel obliged, nodding slightly.

What followed was… empty, cold, _not right_. Dean forced the thoughts away, as he stormed into the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of beer and drank the half of it without having a second thought. He tried not to understand what the hell had just happened, because the moment he gave into those memories, the only thing he knew was that he had been used by a fucking universal engagement ring.

Maybe Dean’s actions when he was a teenager were finally catching up with him. It had to be a very funny joke to the universe.

_Because you’re human. You don’t experience the bonding as intense as I do._

Dean breathed out rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Fuck.”

The angel was sitting on the coach when Dean walked into the leaving room, covered by his wings completely. He looked like a giant cocoon and Dean’s couldn’t help but smile.

In that moment the monster, that Dean believed he was, looked like a lost child. And judging from the desperate pull of the bond trying to get Dean closer to him, it wasn’t a trick.

Dean walked into the room, sitting on the chair across from Castiel. He caught the moment the wings shifted slightly, the feathers looking nothing of the sharp blades that had been threatening to cut Dean’s skin open. If anything they looked soft and… bruised.

Dean made a sip from his beer and frowned seeing the places where the wings were bent and torn in half. The places where the feathers lacked entirely.

Castiel was not the only monster in the room.

“Hey,” Dean said, and the angel stiffened underneath his wings, “Do you eat hearts?”

The wings flew open in a second, opening up to their full height and going back behind Castiel’s back in one graceful motion, Dean couldn’t stop staring. If he had expected to see a frightened shivering child, he had been mistaken. Castiel looked nothing of the kind, even with his feet pulled tightly to his chest.

If anything he looked insulted.

“Excuse me?”

Dean sighed, “Well, we’re in this together, so we might as well learn something about each other.”

For some time Castiel looked like he was considering the possibilities, and then he gave in. His feet touched the floor and he leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What are you suggesting?”

Dean shrugged, “Prejudices and superstitions.”

It had to be the bond talking when Dean gazed at Castiel thinking once again that the guy was really quite handsome.

“Agreed,” he said finally and Dean almost started at the suddenness of it, “And no, neither I nor my family members eat hearts. It’s prohibited.”

Dean nodded slowly. Okay, those are good news. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

Castiel frowned, “Have _you_?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Only when I had to.”

“And I guess, that happened a lot.”

Dean shrugged and gulped the beer. He was aware of Castiel’s studying look, but he let the guy have that. After all he had been through Dean owed him at least that much.

“No, I haven’t.”

Dean didn’t know how much of that was true. He certainly didn’t want to believe the creature. The angels… they were killers. That was the only knowledge of them he had since he had been a child. _Monsters_.

It was their fault that his life had become a mess. It was their fault that his Father had dragged him and Sammy into a freaking interspecies war. It was their fault that he had lost a chance to have a childhood, to have a family. To have a mother.

Dean shouldn’t believe him.

The bond shined brightly and purely deep inside his chest and Dean knew what the truth was.

They fed on fruits, Castiel told him, fruits and abandoned eggs. Sometimes some of the members of the tribe would come across a dying animal and those would be the only times they would enjoy meat. Other than that angels were pretty much, what humans called, vegetarian.

They didn’t need too much food though. Unlike humans, it was common for them to eat only once a day. Their bodies were built to conquer long distances and unwelcoming weather conditions.

Angels were warriors and defenders by nature.

“Although living in a reserve has made us softer,” he concluded.

Dean listened to him carefully, trying to catch anything odd or something that might be not adding up to the story. But so far he had nothing. The angel was looking at him honestly, if only a little bit nostalgic.

Dean felt like an asshole yet again.

“Tell me more.” Dean demanded.

Castiel shot him a look but gave in. He pushed his legs up on the coach and hugged them closely to his chest again, his wings shifting covering his shoulders slightly. That way he looked almost domestic. Dean felt his heart skip a bit.

The bond, he reminded himself. The bond talking.

He shifted in his sit, leaning back. He might as well get comfortable too.

“Long before I was born, angels lived all together, all of us like a huge family up in the skies. After our kind revealed itself to people, it’s been chaotic. I’ve been told of the discord in the family. Angels have broken up into different oppositions. I’ve been told of hundred parties all against one another.”

Dean frowned, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Castiel lifted his sad gaze and Dean had to pull himself together to talk again, “I mean, if what you say is true, it means that there are thousands – if not millions – of angels out there.”

Dean waited for Castiel to speak up.

“There were,” he said finally, looking down again, “Then the civil war wiped us almost clean.”

Dean gripped the bottle tighter, feeling the sadness leak through the walls in the bond, which Castiel might have built up. Dean felt the bitterness with every particle of his body.

“The parties that wanted to destroy people, to establish a tyranny on Earth – that side was defeated. And remaining angels marched happily into the arms of the humans…” Castiel’s voice lingered.

“Only to be hunted by them.”

Castiel nodded.

Dean cursed mentally.

“After that, angels realized what a huge mistake that was. Still, they developed different opinions on what to do now that there was no way back. Once again, family split into two camps, so to say. One wanted to find a shelter and willing to help humans and live as far away from the danger as possible. Another believed that humans should pay for what they did.” Castiel sighed into his knees, “What once was a hunting season became a war.”

In the silence that followed Dean could hear the bond loud in his ears. It wanted to get free, it wanted warmth, it wanted comfort.

Castiel wanted comfort.

Dean’s hand tightened around the empty bottle to the point that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And those words were as sudden to him as to Castiel. The angel looked at him wide-eyed and Dean had to look away shamefully. “Don’t look so smug about it, all right.”

The angel chuckled and Dean could feel the warmth of it in his chest. It spread inside of it like a virus, and that moment Dean knew that he didn’t want it to ever disappear.

“Interesting.”

Dean glanced back at the angel. He was still smiling; his head tilted a little bit to the side. God, Dean wanted him to stop doing whatever he was doing to him.

“ _What_?” His voice sounded more gruff than he had intended to, but Castiel seemed unaffected by it.

“Nothing,” and then the angel was studying him again, “It’s just that for all that hard and brutal attitude you’re pulling, you’re actually quite soft on the inside.”

Dean felt his cheeks go red. He stood up, chair falling behind him. It felt like the angel tried playing with his head, but the blues were clean and honest and Dean let the breath he had been holding out.

“Shut up.”

He felt the angel’s smile on his back when he left the room. Or maybe it was the bond again.

Fucking bond.

Dean threw away the bottle and leaned on his hands over the sink.

So, there were actually two kinds of the angels, the rumors were true if you believed that freak, sitting on Dean’s coach. And the one Dean was searching for must have been from the ‘war’ camp, while the lead Dean had gotten couple of months ago was of the ‘peace’ camp.

Dean wondered if the camps contacted in any way. And if that was the case, it might be that Dean’s plan wasn’t all that bad.

Well, apart from the bonding part.

“Shit.”

It seemed like all the thoughts and all the emotions – everything belonged to the freaking bond. There were no feelings of his own now. And no matter what he had thought of, or what he wanted to do, everything had to involve the bond between him and the angel.

And the more he tried to escape it, the more it demanded his attention. It wanted Dean open, honest, emotional. It wanted Dean with Castiel, close to him, touching him, breathing one air.

It wanted Dean to ensure their bond that it would survive, because it was still so young and frantic and _needing_.

There was nowhere in the world Dean was giving into it.

And if it was so bad to him, Dean could only imagine what it did to poor Castiel there.

One thought of the angel, and the bond shined brightly, kicking Dean right in the guts, leaving him breathless, having his head flowed with images of the angel, the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled, the way he smelled––

Smelled? No, thank you.

Dean breathed in. He was not going down without a fight.

“We need to find a way to shut it down.” Castiel’s voice was low a tired.

Dean could only agree with that.


	6. “I might be jealous.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel fall into a routine as they struggle to trust each other. Sam is a good news bearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I really like how this chapter turned out to be.  
> I'm really sorry for the grammar mistakes. If you see any you're free to comment on it :)  
> Hope you like this domestic kind of chapter, because the next one is going to be a roller coaster, I promise :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel fell asleep with a book in his hands, one of the wings covering him thoughtfully and Dean definitely did _not_ think it was the cutest thing ever.

And even if he did think that, it wasn’t like he could control his thoughts with that freaking bond running the show.

And maybe Dean did cover Castiel with a blanket and took the book from his hands, but that was just because it was a nice thing to do. And Dean would do that to any other friend of his.

Not that Castiel was his friend.

Shut up.

Dean called Sam and, as surprising as it was, his brother actually answered that time. Dean updated him on the news, everything that Castiel had told him about the sigils, the bond, about the possibility of shutting it down, and the one of making it stronger and official (struggling with words a little bit when describing certain acts).

Dean didn’t tell Sam that the bond was actually almost a living asshole, that made him feel and do things that Dean didn’t want to do.

Sam was all emotions in his ear. And now that there were possibilities to make it right at least some way, Sam was positive they could make it all right once again.

Dean chuckled into the receiver. His brother was a huge dork.

After the phone call and a quick snack, Dean returned to the living room. He turned off the lamp and left the room, closing the door silently behind him. He was well aware of what he was doing leaving the angel unattended like that. But something in Dean told him that the angel wouldn’t leave.

Dean didn’t want to give that ‘something’ a name.

As sure as he was that angel wasn’t going to run away, he also was pretty sure that his hunter senses wouldn’t let him sleep anyway. After all, there was an enemy sleeping in his house.

And no matter what that wimp of a bond had made him think, Castiel was still an angel, and was still a rather strong enemy.

So Dean had a night to waste, until his body would give in. Taking the last bottle of beer and grabbing some of the tools that Bobby had hidden in the attic, Dean walked downstairs.

He was always good at fixing, and more than anything else in the world he loved fixing cars. Maybe it was just Bobby’s hobby projecting on his happy memories. The happiest memories of his childhood had to be when Bobby taught him how cars worked, what made them tick, breathe and run. The first summer John had left Dean at Bobby’s was maybe the best summer of his life.

Bobby had been a terrible nanny. He had made Dean fix things around the house, had taught him how to hunt using his actual brain and knowledge, not only guns. He had made Dean wash his hands every time before touching any of the old books he had in his collection.

He had also spent time with Dean, had taught him how to play baseball. Had cooked Dean’s favorite food, had listened whatever Dean wanted to tell him and had called him an _idjit_.

And had never chased after the past. Unlike John.

The lightbulb slipped in Dean’s hand and fell down, breaking into hundred pieces on the floor.

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. He leaned down carefully, not to fall from the ladder. Grabbing the new lightbulb from the toolbox Dean couldn’t help but think about his father and his mission.

Everything Dean had ever done and everything that he was going to do, everything circled around his father’s revenge. Around that angel that walked into their house more than twenty years ago.

If Dean stopped everything, just dropped John’s case, nobody would ever know. Yeah, his father might never find peace in the afterlife and the yellow-winged bastard would walk free. But Dean would be free as well. He would be free from the vengeance, from the mission. From John.

Dean clapped his hands victoriously, once the lightbulb was screwed tightly.

“Yellow-winged?”

Dean had almost fallen from the ladder, when the gravel voice appeared out of nowhere. The angel was standing in the doorway barefoot, his hair and feathers stuck different directions adorably.

No. Not _adorably_. Messy. ‘Messy’ was the word Dean had definitely wanted to use.

“You really need to learn how to block your thoughts,” the angel smiled.

Dean could only stare back feeling as his cheeks got warmer. Awkward silence settled between them, until Castiel talked again.

“Need a hand?”

He almost made a step forward. “No, stop!”

Angel’s foot almost touched the floor, when he stopped, looking questioningly at Dean.

“Glass.”

Castiel seemed to see what Dean was talking about and stepped back.

Dean swept the floor quickly and tried the lightbulb. The room filled with a bright yellowish light, and Dean smiled proud with himself. He threw away the bag with the shards, put back the toolbox and went downstairs. Castiel was standing in the kitchen when Dean walked it. He washed his hands in silence.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was.”

It was quiet between them. Dean wiped his hands and turned around. Castiel was sitting at the table, one of the wings in his hand as he tried – Dean assumed – to clean or brush it.

“Why were you thinking about a yellow-winged angel?” Castiel asked suddenly.

Dean frowned, “Why do you ask?”

“I might be jealous.”

His blue eyes stared back at Dean humorless and Dean turned away, “You know him?”

The angel shook his head slowly. There was some tugging on the bond and with hunter instincts kicking in suddenly Dean knew that the guy wasn’t speaking the truth. Or the whole truth that is.

“Too bad,” he sighed, “I’m going to bed.”

He walked past the angel without a second thought and upstairs into the room he occupied when he had been a child.

Dean expected to toss and turn for a long time, but the moment his head touched the pillow, he passed out.

 

Unsurprisingly, Castiel was still there when Dean walked downstairs the next morning. He was sitting on the coach, cleaning his wings. Or at least struggling to do so.

Dean walked into the kitchen and started making coffee.

It was quiet outside, but more than that it was quiet in his mind. And Dean was thankful for the silence in his head.

Coffee tasted like heaven on his tongue. Dean breathed in the smell and sighed out almost happily. Breakfast could make him even happier. Dean dag into the fridge thinking of what to make, when he heard the door opening.

He straightened at once.

Castiel was standing in the doorway looking awkwardly alien. Still in the yesterday’s jeans hanging low on his hips, hair and wings looking even messier than yesterday. The lowest feathers were laying in the floor and Dean wondered if it was problematic for the angel to move with them. Especially in the closed space they had been staying at.

“God, Cas,” Dean breathed out, “Don’t sneak out on a man, could you?”

Castiel didn’t react in any way only continued staring at Dean. And Dean realized that he was standing in the kitchen with just his sweatpants on. He had forgotten to put on a shirt. And he had to take a shower still. The bond had been talking of smells yesterday, right?

“Uh,” Dean looked around uncomfortably, “Coffee?”

Castiel nodded sleepily. Dean held out a cup of hot coffee for him to take. Castiel made several steps forward, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. The lowest feathers were dragging after him like tails.

Dean licked his lips to suppress a smile.

Castiel took the cup and nodded thankfully. Dean made himself another cup and both of them found themselves sitting at the table. Castiel looked nervous, but he disguised it almost good enough for Dean not to notice.

They shared a small talk, Castiel asking Dean if it was okay for him to sleep on the coach, and Dean saying that it was fine. Dean wondered if it would be okay for him to tell Castiel to sleep downstairs on one of the vacant beds. After all, nothing was stopping Dean from saying that.

He didn’t though.

Castiel sipped coffee and smiled. Dean stared at that pure smile unable to look away. He licked his lips nervously.

He was struck suddenly with how fucking domestic it was. With Castiel and him in the kitchen. Sharing coffee and a morning together.

Dean stood up, the chair rattling underneath. He cleared his throat, announcing, “I’m gonna go take a shower.” And with that he almost ran out of the room.

He wanted to curse the bond, to blame everything on her. But there was nothing in his head, or his chest. It was surprisingly – if not a bit scary – quiet the whole morning Dean and Castiel had shared together. So it was all him.

Dean scrubbed his skin, trying to understand where he ended and the bond began, trying to feel that mental border. He almost managed to make himself believe that the bond was messing with him yet again, when the godawful thing came to life.

It brightened up, and Dean knew that something might have happened.

He dried himself quickly and thrown on some clothes, before rushing downstairs. “Cas?”

Castiel was standing in the living room, examining the shelves. Dean let out a breath he had no idea he was holding. He followed Castiel’s gaze. On the shelf, there were old photos in frames that Bobby was keeping.

Any other day Dean would tear the photos from the stranger’s hands. Instead, he watched as Castiel’s long fingers caressed the images gently, while his eyes studied people in the photos.

“Your family?”

Dean stepped forward observing the photos himself. There was Bobby and his wife, Bobby with him and Sammy when they were children and the one where they were grown-ups. There were couple with Ellen and Jo, even one with John. Some other people Dean didn’t recognize, but maybe they had been hunters just like Bobby and John.

“Yeah,” he said finally.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something but Dean’s phone rang. Dean glanced at the angel and left the room.

“Yeah, Sammy?”

_Dean! Dean, great! I might have found something! It’s a stretch, but at least something! I can’t tell you right now, but maybe––maybe it can work!_

Dean frowned, “Sam. Sammy! Wait––”

_I still have to do some stuff here in the town, but––_

“Sam!” Sam’s voice was breathless, as if he was running, “What are you talking about?”

_Your bond, Dean! I might have found a solution. We can shut it down!_

Dean blinked couple of times, the words ringing loud in his ears.

The bond was shining bright and proud somewhere deep inside of him. The low tugging reminding him of the angel in the living room.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down slowly.

_I’ll be back in a couple of days. Maybe three. Try not to go crazy until then, okay?_

Sam was smiling into the receiver, Dean heard it, but he didn’t find it funny. He swallowed, “Sure, Sammy. Be careful.”

_Of course. You too._

The line went dead and Dean threw the phone on the table.

Couple of days. Maybe three. Didn’t sound that bad, now did it?

 

The angel walked into the kitchen, once the smell spread all over the house.

“What is that?”

“An omelet,” Dean answered simply.

He was aware of the angel standing too close to him, looking over his shoulder to see what Dean was doing. He tried not thinking too hard about it, concentrating on the cooking instead. But the omelet was not that hard to cook, so Dean’s thoughts lingered to the way Castiel’s chin almost touched his shoulder where the angel tried to get a glimpse of the breakfast.

Dean breathed out, “Wash your hands at sit down. It’s almost ready.”

If they were going full domestic mode on, they were doing so by Dean’s rules. And it wasn’t like Dean was accepting it, but delaying the inevitable hadn’t been the best tactic in their case. So Dean wondered if humoring the bond might be.

They shared a quiet breakfast and Dean was as relaxed as he could be with an angel sitting just three feet across from him. And even though the angel had his wings tucked behind him lazily, smiled softly and even chuckled couple of times, he must have been alert too.

He must have been.

Dean tried not to think of the gun tucked safely behind his back.

“What if we manage to… shut it down,” Dean asked, when the angel dug into the second portion, “Are you gonna return to your family?”

Castiel stopped chewing and swallowed. He stared at Dean as if trying to solve a puzzle. He dropped his gaze shamefully and Dean felt a long pang of guilt in his chest, “I might.”

There was something wrong and the bond was screaming for it.

“Spit it out. Might feel better,” Dean suggested, and wow. He really wanted know it for Castiel’s safety. There was no other reason to ask. Dean wasn’t just curious or bored, he kind of _cared_. And it had nothing to do with the bond, because that thing was going mad, one second buzzling high and loud, the second – vanishing completely.

Castiel gaze was suddenly sharp. “Why do you care?”

And, okay. The last time Castiel had spoken like that, he had been tied to Bobby’s bed. Only one day ago, which felt like hundred of years had passed since then.

Dean had to actually think for a second for a response.

“I just–– I really don’t,” he said, holding Castiel’s gaze.

“Then why?”

Dean shrugged, “Upholding a civilized conversation.”

Castiel frowned, his lips pursing into one thin line. And oh boy, his wings were raising up something bad. And if yesterday he had been trying to make himself feel scared, today he didn’t need that kind of encouragement. He was pretty fucking scared.

“Yeah, right.”

Dean dropped his hand under the table, shifting it slightly back.

Castiel’s gaze flickered to Dean’s hand and he was suddenly up, the chair falling behind him, his wings frying open, shattering the utensils all around the room.

The gun was pointed at the angel before Dean could even register what he was doing.

The wings dropped a bit. “Thought so.”

Castiel stormed out of the room, wings brushing and dropping everything on their way.

Dean dropped the gun and breathed out.

What the fuck had just happened?

 

Dean found Castiel outside the house. He was sitting on a branch of the nearest tree like a bird. Dean sighed tiredly.

The bond had been going fucking frantic and Dean was pretty sure that Castiel had felt it too. It was tugging Dean, begging him to follow the angel, and Dean had yielded only a couple of hours later. He was sure there was nothing bad in checking in your unanticipated roommate who was currently finding his peace in sitting on the tree.

“You feeling good?” Dean asked, stepping up to the tree. His voice was a little bit louder than usually.

The angel glared down at him.

“Found the cure yet?”

Dean shook his head. Frankly speaking, he hadn’t even thought of doing anything of the kind. Maybe it was his blind brotherly trust, or the exhaustion was finally catching up with him, but all Dean had been doing this couple of hours was cleaning the house after the ‘Castiel’ storm and watching TV.

So no, he had no intention on working today.

“Then what are you doing here?” Castiel snapped.

Dean breathed in, “Came to get you inside.”

“You’re not a superior of me.”

Dean lifted his arms and dropped them down in a surrounding motion, “I am not.”

“Nor a master.”

“Not claiming to be.”

Castiel was glaring something awful. Dean felt as if he was talking to an angry kid. He needed to stop thinking of Castiel as a child. Really.

The angel had no intention to back up, “I’m feeling great right where I am.”

Dean was frustrated.

“Come on, man! The bond is being grumpy something bad. And it’s getting darker and colder, and you’re sitting there shirtless,” he pointed on the angel’s torso, still uncovered, “Also how long has it been since you’ve had a shower, really?”

“Whose fault is that?”

Dean lifted his hands again and Castiel’s gaze softened. He seemed to consider his options. Dean waited patiently.

“Guns?”

Dean turned around and lifted the back of his shirt. When he turned back, Castiel was almost satisfied.

“I want to sleep in a bed.”

“You got it.”

There were couple of more seconds of Castiel searching for any lies, but he seemed to be pleased. He jumped gracefully to the ground, wings unfolding delicately and carrying him down with a surprising ease. Dean covered his eyes from the wind that had risen, but couldn’t help the staring.

The angel glared at him questioningly when his feet carried him closer to Dean, and Dean just grinned, “Impressive.”

With that one word he managed to get Castiel’s guard down. His shoulders dropped and wings lifted almost excitedly so. The angel’s cheek colored pink and Dean had to turn away because – okay, because that was too pretty.

God, he felt like a fifteen-year-old idiot.

“It was nothing.”

They stood there in silence, and Dean saw the way Castiel’s wings overflew with different undertones in the already setting sun. They looked much better right now than they did in the morning and Dean wondered if that was because Castiel took them outside.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “Inside?”

The angel nodded and followed him to the house.

And maybe it shouldn’t be that bad, Dean told himself. So what if the situation is a bit awkward and unpleasant, and groundbreaking. It could be over in two days, and they would be free. And Dean could forget this had ever taken place.

And Castiel… well, he’d probably return to his family, right?

Anyway, everybody was winning, so.

“Yes.”

So, couple of days didn’t sound that bad.

Right?


	7. “Why am I even here, Dean?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds a way to make the bond silent, but it backfires.

Wrong.

It had been hell.

Not Castiel, no. Castiel was a pretty cool roommate, Dean had to admit. Sometimes he knocked something down with his wings, but it wasn’t intentional, so Dean couldn’t hold it against him. And if not for the rocky start, Dean thought that Castiel might actually be a pretty awesome friend one day. That was, if he wanted to, naturally.

He was smart for the person living on a tree. And if you choose to believe his words, he had read a lot of human literature too. He was surprised every time he saw Dean cook and had to stay and watch the process. And Dean didn’t mind it that much, really.

Castiel had also been quite respectful on the personal space issues. Only one time stepping over them, and then carefully backing away after being asked to do so.

All in all it had been a couple of days of domesticity and tiptoeing around each other, which Dean didn’t mind really.

What he was fed up with, though, was the fucking bond.

It had always wanted _more_. If Dean was in another room, it made Dean go check on Castiel. The moment he was in the same room with the angel, it wanted them standing closer. The moment Dean humored that wish, it went crazy, wanting them touching, kissing and––

You get the drill.

Castiel looked fairly unaffected by the bond though. Sometimes Dean caught him shifting nervously when he entered the room, sometimes the angel’s wings would flatter when he passed by. But he had never commented on it, or made it seem like it was a big deal.

It was a big deal for Dean though. He was fed up with feeling like he was a personal doll for the bond to play with.

It was about six o’clock that he decided to have a groceries run. He didn’t really care for the whining bond, shuffling it as far away inside of his mind as he mentally could.

He spent shopping hardly half an hour but it felt like days if you asked the _thing_ inside of him.

Castiel looked quite bad himself when Dean returned to Bobby’s cabin. He looked pale and shaky, and Dean didn’t have to ask to know what happened. They shared a knowing look and Dean walked into the kitchen. He took out bottles of beer and vodka and turned around looking for the glasses.

“Those are alcoholic beverages,” Castiel stated.

Dean nodded, “Yep.”

The glasses clang loudly when their bottoms had touched the table. Dean shoved beer inside the fridge and opened one bottle of vodka. He poured the liquid into the glasses. “I’m pretty damn tired of that bond telling me what to do, aren’t you?”

Castiel’s eyes brightened up and he sat down next to Dean eagerly, “You think alcohol may work?”

“Don’t know.” Dean said, lifting both of the glasses and offering one to Castiel, “Won’t hurt to try, though.”

Castiel took the offered glass with suspicion, sniffing the liquid and wincing once the smell hit his nose. Dean chuckled. The bond was buzzing satisfied deep inside his head. It had no idea what Dean was about to do.

The fucker.

Dean grinned lifting the glass, “Cheers.”

Castiel mirrored the motion a little bit uncertainly. The glasses clinked, and Dean emptied his one in one sip. When he had the glass down, Castiel was watching him curiously. Dean nodded to his one, and the angel seemed to get the drill.

He emptied his glass as well, and Dean smiled wickedly.

“Let’s tranq the fucker.”

 

The first bottle was emptied quickly and almost effortlessly so. Dean even started regretting buying just two of them. But then the second bottle hit right where the first one should have and Dean relaxed.

The buzz in his head decreased to pretty much none-existing, and he smiled satisfied with himself.

“And that’s what ‘m talk’n ‘bout!” Dean shouted air fisting victoriously. The glass he was holding slipped from his hand, shuttering on the floor, “Shit.”

Castiel seemed to wake up from the noise, lifting his head from the table, the wings shuffling behind him lazily. “I still don’t think it was a good idea,” he said slowly but pronouncing every sound.

“Oh, c’me on, man. It worked, didn’t ‘t,” Dean mumbled, standing up messily to get another glass.

The angel mumbled something underneath his breath, but Dean had already known what he had to say. He repeated it every time Dean poured another shot. Castiel thought that the alcohol wouldn’t help their situation, because alcohol affected their brains, while the bond was _a link between the souls_. It wasn’t located in their brains, so it couldn’t be affected.

And after every lecture from Castiel, Dean would pour a little bit extra in the angel’s glass. Just because he could.

Pieces of glass shattered underneath his boots, when Dean sat down, smiling victoriously yet again. He found a glass, he won.

Castiel didn’t seem to share his high spirits. He blinked slowly, as Dean filled their glasses again. “Why?” was all he managed to ask.

Dean shrugged, “To make sure.”

“You said it the last time––” and Castiel fucking hiccupped. Dean snorted, vodka pouring down on the table.

“T’ make double sure then.”

 

The moment his body knocked into a wall, his head spinning something awful, Dean realized that, yeah, the last couple of shots were definitely unnecessary.

He tried to remember what was going on. Needless to say in was all in vain.

As he slid down the wall, he could recall that Castiel had almost fallen asleep at the table, and Dean shook him to wake him up. Then he… God what was that noise? A thunder? Was it raining?

Okay, focus, Dean. What the hell had happened?

Dean carried Castiel upstairs.

Okay.

He did that. He carried the angel.

Wait, what _?_

“You think you’re so smart! And _civilized_! That you have a right––an––an entitlement–– You had no _right_!”

Oh right, they were in the bedroom. Dean was sitting on the floor, and the angel – Castiel – Castiel was, for some reason, standing above him, his wings thrown aside threateningly.

At least that was established.

Dean held his hand up, “O-okay. Cas––”

“What do you want from me? Why am I even _here_? What do you _want_?!” the voice growled and thundered from outside the house. God, that dude was scary, “Why am I even _here_ , Dean?”

Dean swallowed and still holding his hand up, as if shielding himself from the glowing eyes. Thoughts were running wild in his head, “I don’t know.” It was silent but Dean didn’t dare to look at Castiel, “I don’t know, okay? I screw––I screwed up, Cas…. You should‘ve never–– I fucked up.”

Dean could see the angel’s bare feet where he was standing tall above him. He seemed to be satisfied with Dean’s answer, because he stepped back, “I despise you. You and your kind.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, his hand falling down. But he was still looking at the place Castiel had been standing on.

There was something on the floor.

“You destroy everything your hand touches. You humans ruin the world you’re living in and feel superior to the other leaving creatures. Revolting filthy _monsters_.”

Blood. It was blood.

“And you’re no better.”

“Okay.”

Castiel was bleeding.

“Shut the hell up!”

“Sorry.”

Why was Castiel bleeding?

“And don’t you _ever_ _touch_ me again!”

Right.

Everything fell back into places.

The buzzling in Dean’s head quieted down. Dean blinked several times to come to his senses as he remembered.

There was broken glass on the kitchen floor. And Castiel was barefoot.

Dean ran his hand through his hair nervously, desperately grasping for the memories shuddered in his head.

Dean remembered that he had woken Castiel up and the angel had stepped onto the glass sleepily. So Dean had carried him upstairs. The hallway had been whirling around them, the wings hanging on the both sides of Dean’s head blinding the view. Dean had managed to get Castiel into Bobby’s bed. He’d tried to get the glass out of the guy’s foot. It’d been bleeding on Bobby’s sheets, the man would have never forgiven Dean.

And Castiel was hurt.

He hadn’t said it though. Only had mumbled something incoherent after Dean had taken the piece of glass out. Everything had gone downside when Dean had tried to bandage the guy’s foot.

What had Dean done? He must have had done something to anger Castiel.

“You’re bleeding.”

Castiel was breathing hard, his cheeks red, his hands curled into fists on both sides of him, “It’s not your damn business.”

And Dean couldn’t agree more. It wasn’t his business.

So why did it feel like it was?

Something cut his hand and Dean opened up his palm. A small piece of glass fell on the floor with a quiet clink. In the sudden fast light he could see blood splattered on it. Then it was dark again.

Thunder tore up the sky and Dean started.

When Dean looked at Castiel the man was staring at the small piece of glass as well.

“You’re right,” Dean breathed out again, trying to sit up as straight as the alcohol in his system allowed him to, “I’m sorry.”

Castiel was standing in front of him, sweatpants hanging low on his hipbones, and Dean chuckled. He remembered when Castiel had walked out of the shower that morning all soft features and smiles. He had talked about the shower for some time, marveling at the possibilities of making water warmer and colder at your wish.

And it had not been the bond that made them stay and discuss water together, no. Both of them wanted it, on their own. It had not been the bond then.

Nor when Dean had carried Castiel carefully upstairs, holding him tightly, making sure it’s comfortable for him.

It had not been the bond, when Dean had decided to lay Castiel on the bed and cover him with a blanket. When he had treated the small cut on the angel’s foot, using the nearest first aid kit he could find.

And it wasn’t the bond now that Dean felt utterly fascinated and defenseless underneath the angel’s glare.

He deserved it. As simple as that.

For everything he had done to the poor guy, for everything Castiel had to go through, Dean had deserved so much more than being shoved into the wall.

Dean stood up and walked to the door, passing the angel carefully.

“Good night.”

The door clinked shut behind him and Dean walked towards his bedroom.

The image of big and frightened eyes was carved into his memory. Dean tried to understand what had scared the angel so much but he just couldn’t. He had just tried to help, tried to do something good for a change. And had been thrown into a wall as a result.

Dean sighed sitting down on his bed.

He just couldn’t remember what he had done to scare Castiel so badly. And with the bond going practically dead between them there was no way of telling what was going on in the angel’s head either.

Those last couple of shots had definitely been too much.

 

The next morning was quiet and awkward. It was the quietest and awkwardest they had shared so far. Castiel didn’t look him in the eyes when he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. His wings shuffled quietly as the angel walked, messier than before.

Dean tried not to look at Castiel as well.

“Breakfast?” he asked instead already knowing the answer, but trying to break the silence anyway.

Castiel nodded.

They shared a silent meal, Castiel helped Dean with cleaning around the kitchen after they had finished. They spent the whole afternoon in the living room, going through all the books Bobby had in his library, trying to find any clue to the ‘shut down’.

Dean was reading half-heatedly. Most of the time he wondered if the bond was all right. It was surprisingly quiet, almost not there. The loud begging of Dean to sit closer to Castiel, to touch him, make sure the angel felt well – Dean felt nothing of the kind.

Sometimes Dean would even reach for the bond himself just to make sure it was still there. However, he could feel nothing. And if Dean was quite honest with himself, it felt uneasy.

Maybe Castiel’s words were true, and it just needed time to relax. After all, it had been several days of not quieting buzz in his head and chest and Dean was thankful for the silence for a change.

Thankful and maybe just a little bit worried.

 “I’m sorry.”

Castiel’s voice was sudden and Dean had to make sure he had heard correctly, “Huh?”

The angel sighed, putting book aside and lifting his legs on the coach. His wings covered his shoulders like a blanket.

God, he looked adorable.

“I misread the situation yesterday. And overreacted. So I’m sorry.”

He was not asking, nor looking for forgiveness, but simply stating that he was. Dean nodded slowly, but he still didn’t understand what had happened.

“All right,” he said nonetheless.

Castiel looked away then and swallowed, “I hoped that…” he cleared his throat nervously, and Dean leaned forward a little bit, “That you could assist me.”

Dean brows furrowed, and then the wing folded and Dean saw the bandage that Sam had tied around the angel’s shoulder already dirty.

“Okay,” was all he managed to say.

Castiel shifted on the coach, one of his legs bended underneath him, giving Dean better access, as Dean sat down behind him, a first aid kit already in his hand. Wings shifted, and Dean had to swallow a lump in his throat.

It was the second time he was sitting that close to Castiel’s wings. Still he couldn’t help but marvel at the graceful lines of the angel’s body where the shoulder blade shifted into the wing. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He came to his senses, when the wings fluttered around him.

“Yeah, right,” he mumbled to himself, opening the kit.

His hands moved carefully, knowingly. He had known how to make a bandage long before he had learned how to tie his laces. So his hands moved basically on their own.

What he was certainly _not_ familiar with though were the wings. They were huge, and black, and _everywhere_. They looked like statues, like props one second only to come _alive_ the very next.

They shifted and stirred every time Dean brushed angel’s skin or touched them accidentally. It was frustrating and disturbing. And by the time Dean had finished, the wings were shaking on the both sides of the angel, the feathers trembling slightly.

Sitting that close, Dean could actually see the bruises and cuts where the ropes had held them tightly. He clenched his jaw, observing all the little broken and twisted feathers around the wounds.

Yeah, he could see what Castiel had said yesterday. Humans ruin everything they touch.

“Dean?” the voice was stoic if just a little bit breathless.

Dean shook his head. He opened his mouth to say that Castiel didn’t need to apologies, that it was Dean who had to say sorry for what he had done to him. That it was Dean who was screwed up and blind and cruel. That he deserved every word and every shove that Castiel had repaid him with.

Dean opened his mouth to say all those things.

“Your wings are messed up,” he whispered instead.

Castiel turned around sharply as if shielding his wings with his body and Dean suddenly realized that he had his hand stuck midair.

He had reached out for the wings, tried to touch them.

Fuck.

God, Dean was a _jerk_. He had wanted – he had reached out to touch Castiel’s wings after being told _not to_ in a very precise manner. And he couldn’t even blame it on the bond, because it was nowhere near when Dean had actually held his hand out to touch the angel.

He cleared his throat glancing away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…” he cleared his throat, “I won’t, I promise.”

Dean had to admit that he was drawn to the angel. They shared a bond, and even if it had been silent, Dean – for some unknown reason – wanted, no, _needed_ to be closer.

But it didn’t change shit though.

Castiel still stared at him with those baby blues of his. His wings were tugged tightly to his back in a very obvious manner, and Dean felt like an asshole yet again.

He needed some fresh air.

Dean stood up, deliberately avoiding looking into Castiel’s eyes, when long fingers curled around his wrist lightly.

“Dean,” the grip tightened, as Castiel tried to pull Dean back.

Castiel was all pink cheeks and intense staring when Dean looked at him. All shaky and breathless, and – God, Dean was a total jerk.

It was a very simple rule. And Castiel was not that complicated really. That was why it had been so simple with him. And _no_ - _touching_ rule was not beyond Dean’s understanding. He was sure – more than sure – that Castiel hated him. The angel had told him so himself, and Dean had convinced himself that he was fine with that.

But why the _fuck_ was he looking at Dean that way now? It wasn’t fucking fair. Cut the dude some slack here!

“Cas, I said I’m sorry. I meant it.”

Dean tried to turn away, to walk away, he really did.

“I don’t need your apologies,” Castiel rasped.

Dean winced. He must have fucked up something bad. He knew he had been out of line yesterday, he must have done something truly awful. But he didn’t remember what, for god’s sake! There was no way he could possibly make it right for the mistake he couldn’t recall.

Even though he really, _really_ tried to.

“Cas, come on, I––”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel’s voice was thunder in Dean’s ears and Dean knew that the bond must be back, “I need you to clean my wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but I just /love/ writing about drunk Dean. It's kind of fun for me. Also I love when Castiel goes all soldier mode on. So I've decided to combine the two.  
> Tell me what you think!
> 
> P.S. This chapter is number 7, a.k.a then one where Dean doesn't really fuck up for once but still has to apologies ^^'


	8. “It’s not real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but better late than never right?  
> Anyway, there you go!  
> Sorry for the mistakes, by the way. I promise, I proofread every chapter three/four times before publishing ^^'

Dean was a simple man, okay? He was a man of simple pleasures.

He enjoyed pecan pie and old rock music. He liked driving around just for the feeling of the road under the wheels. He enjoyed fixing cars and watching stupid romcoms.

Dean liked women with curves and long hair. He loved when they threw themselves onto him, because that way was the easiest. He loved when women talked dirty to him during sex. He liked when they got right to the point. He enjoyed pleasuring them in a way that he knew was _just right_ as much as he enjoyed hearing them confirm his guess.

He was a man of simple life pleasures, really.

So when Castiel suggested Dean brushed his wings Dean didn’t expect his body to react the way it did. And yes, if Dean was absolutely honest with himself – which he had tried being lately – he had to admit that Castiel _was_ attractive.

And yes, maybe Dean also had to admit that sometimes, very rarely so, but nonetheless, he had dreams of men. And maybe, _maybe_ Dean was not as straight as one might think he was.

Maybe – right place, right time – Dean would have tried something. Maybe, if Dean had a chance to go to college, Dean would have tried something. Because he had never been against it, no.

But imagine being surrounded by hunters like John. Imagine living in the social norms constructed by men like his father. Hunters like Dean were outed from the community. And Dean could have never left John’s side. Not after Sammy had broken his heart.

So, yeah. It shouldn’t have been surprising.

Dean swallowed, his hands going cold, “I––I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you.”

Yeah, Castiel was not so complicated himself.

Dean was afraid to turn away, to even let his mind go to the places he could never return from. But Castiel was holding his hand firmly, having no idea of what he was asking Dean to do.

Or maybe he had just the idea.

Maybe it was the bond talking again; maybe it was a trap.

“Cas––”

“For fucks sake, Dean! Look at me!”

Dean sighed and turned to look at Castiel because you just don’t say ‘no’ to that tone.

The angel was confident, had that look it his eyes that pierced through Dean’s hesitation. And if Dean ever stumbled, Castiel looked like the person who would be there to catch him.

Dean nodded, “All right.”

He forced his body to relax.

Castiel smiled thankfully and shy for a second and then was all determination again, “We need water.”

And, okay, what?

 

That was how Dean found himself sitting in the bathroom, a sponge in one hand and a washcloth in the other with a pair of huge black wings squeezed in a not so big of a space right in front of him. Castiel was sitting on a small chair, his back turned to Dean. He was telling Dean what to do in a very confident way of his.

Not in his wildest fantasies, Dean would have ever thought that _this_ could have been a moment John’s revenge mission would take him to.

Dean soaked the sponge in the basket full of water and raised it to the angel’s wing. He squeezed the sponge and warm water came running down the side of the wing. It flinched slightly and then relaxed, opening up.

Dean worked carefully, more with his hands than with the sponge or the washcloth. There was dirt in the wings and Dean cleaned it warily of all the little cuts and bruises. He tried to be extra tentative when cleaning around them.

Castiel was motionless for the most time, and then his shoulders shivered. Dean stopped at once. He was cleaning nowhere near the injury parts, so it should’ve been fine.

When Castiel froze again, Dean returned the washcloth back underneath the feathers, using just the very tip to clean underneath an especially dirty one, when Castiel’s shoulders quivered again.

Dean waited for him to stop, but Castiel sniffed instead.

“Um, Cas? You okay there?”

Was Castiel crying? Did Dean do something wrong? Did he hurt him?

And then one of the wings moved down and Dean was able to see Castiel’s face turned to the side. He was fucking laughing.

Dean sighed deeply, hands falling to his knees, wetting his sweatpants, “Somethin’ funny to you?”

Castiel covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, “No.”

“No, no, Cas. Come on. Tell me. I’m listening.”

Dean had fucking had it. He had tiptoed around the angel long enough. Yeah, he had fucked up. And yeah, he had angered and hurt Castiel, but he had tried to prove himself. He was trying at least!

And this fucking angel was making fun of him.

Dean was ready to throw it all away and storm out of the room, when Castiel spoke.

“You’re adorable.”

The room was silent except for the droplets of water falling from the faucet into the sink.

Dean had to blink to make sure that he had heard correctly. He felt his cheeks warm up. He felt like his heart was going to burst open from his chest. The bond shined brightly and everything felt _right_.

Warm water ran down Castiel’s wing and Dean returned to his work.

“Shut up.”

He convinced himself that he hadn’t heard Castiel’s chuckle.

After some time his hands started moving faster and steadier, getting more confident by a second. By the time Dean had finished with the first wing, he could call himself an expert in angel’s wings cleaning.

He rubbed the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and moved to the second one.

The process reminded him of washing Sammy. When Sam had been too small to do so himself, and John had been gone for days or so, Dean would wash Sam himself. It was strange and frustrating, but so worth it when they fell asleep all clean on terrible motel’s sheets.

Bond opened up, and Dean allowed the peace of the childhood memories flow into it. Castiel’s shoulders fell, wings folding lazily just a bit.

Dean huffed out a laugh. He could almost talk _wings_.

“I was worried,” Castiel said suddenly. His voice was soft velvet and Dean felt goose bumps on his hands, “The bond had been remarkably silent for a while.”

Dean took out a piece of leaf from between the feathers and hummed.

“I probably shouldn’t be,” he said quietly, “But I’m glad it’s back.”

Dean’s hands stopped for just a moment only to resume, working even faster than before.

No, he wasn’t going to admit it. Because he wasn’t glad for the bond. It was a burden, a curse, and Dean wished for it not to be there in the first place. He was tired of being linked and depended. And he was more than happy that it all might be over soon.

The bond closed up, and Dean clenched his jaws, “It’s annoying.”

Castiel kept silent the entire time until Dean finished with a loud sigh of relief. Wings looked as good as new. Shining from the tiny droplets on the feathers, colorful and quite good smelling, if Dean allowed himself to be smug about it. (And if anybody asked, he did _not_ use his favorite shampoo on some dude’s wings).

Oh, but he did. And they smelled fantastic.

Castiel couldn’t stop smiling and moving wings around. He walked outside and unfolded them into the setting sun. Huge shadow fell on the house and Dean stared at the sight, not noticing a smile that appeared on his face.

Castiel folded and unfolded wings for a couple of times. Then smiled at Dean and ran. Wings opened up to the risen wind and Dean’s breath was caught in his chest.

Castiel was flying.

Dean had no idea why it made him feel so content, and happy, and _free_. He had no idea why he was smiling at the sight, why he couldn’t tear his gaze away. But he felt the excitement pour from the bond and knew that he was defeated.

He closed his eyes, and let the bond take control. Just this once.

He heard wind whistle in his ears, burn his cheeks, run through the feathers on his wings. He felt setting sun on his face. He was flying as high as he physically could and then stopped. There was a pulling in the low of his belly and then he was falling.

Dean opened his eyes the moment Castiel swept right over his head and back up into the sky.

Dean breathed out shakily. “Show off.”

It was nice though. No fighting, no rule setting, no tiptoeing around. It didn’t feel like a war, finally, like he should be alert and ready. Dean felt as safe as his hunter senses could allow him to be. And for the first time since the whole thing had set about, Dean didn’t mind the bond that much.

And he certainly didn’t mind the angel.

Castiel savored the warmth on his face and felt the same.

His feet touched the grass not until the sun had hidden underneath the horizon. His cheeks were pink, eyes big and bright, his chest heaving deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

He looked beautiful.

When he walked up to Dean, a soft smile brightened his features.

Beautiful? He was a fucking masterpiece.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said quietly.

Dean’s chest tightened.

“And I’m sorry for calling you ‘adorable’ back in the bathroom,” the bond was warm and bright, Dean felt like he was too small for it, “But you were so thoughtful and thorough I couldn’t help myself.”

Dean nodded and tried to make himself turn away. He felt his cheeks warm up again.

Castiel smiled wider, “So, thank you.”

There was no way anyone in Dean’s place would have resisted it. And Dean was no saint. So, what the hell.

Dean pulled Castiel in with one hand on the back of the angel’s neck. And really, it shouldn’t have been that easy. It shouldn’t have felt so right.

But it did.

And Castiel’s lips felt purely perfect against Dean’s. Soft and inviting, and kissing him back. Dean’s tongue licked over Castiel’s lips and they opened up for him willingly.

Dean felt arousal low in his belly, as Castiel’s hand gabbed on the fabric of his shirt, holding Dean tightly in his place. Dean licked eagerly into his open mouth. An open willing hot mouth. Dean held Castiel closer, fingers sinking into the softness of Castiel’s hair. A tiny moan left the angel’s lips.

Or maybe it was Dean.

The bond overflowed with emotions, opening up and letting it all out. Dean shivered, his heart quickening in his chest. There was a bare moment of thought that it was too good to be real, and then he was shoved back.

Castiel swallowed looking at him terrified.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was low and breathless. Castiel still had his hand on Dean’s shirt where he had been holding him and Dean didn’t dare to move.

The angel shook his head, “It’s not real.”

Right. The bond. The bond was playing tricks on them. It was making them feel things that weren’t there and yada-yada-yada.

The truth was, the bond didn’t feel as crushing and dominating as before. And it certainly wasn’t making him see things. Because, when Dean opened his eyes, Castiel was standing there still beautiful.

Dean swallowed making one tiny step forward, “What if it is?”

Castiel looked at him, his eyes sad, his lips even more a magnetic shade of pink. And no, it wasn’t the bond. It was all Dean.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something and Dean made one step closer. Suddenly Castiel’s wings burst open, the angel’s head turning towards the house. And Dean was able to hear it too, now that his attention was drawn to the house as well. Loud noises and doors opening and closing were all over the house and Dean cursed himself for walking around without a gun.

Castiel’s hand fell from Dean’s shirt and Dean made couple of steps back just in time for Sam’s long-haired head to appear out of the door, “Dean?”

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean was certainly not looking forward the talk they were definitely going to have.

“Hello,” Castiel greeted as well, and Dean smiled.

“Uh,” Sam waved back awkwardly.

It was silent for a minute, while Sam tried to grasp whatever was going on in the backyard of Bobby’s cabin. And maybe he might have suspected something, because his eyes narrowed skeptically.

“Dean, can we talk?”

Dean ignored the wailing of the bond and walked towards the house. Castiel was staring at his back. Dean knew he was. But the moment he turned around, the angel was gone.

Once the door to the kitchen closed behind them securing their privacy, Sam leaped towards Dean, his huge hands holding Dean tightly to his chest.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean rasped, patting his brother on the back.

Sam gripped Dean’s shoulder pushing him and shaking slightly, “Are you out of your mind?! Why is he walking free like that? And his wings––” Sam’s face got very serious, almost professor-y, “You know that the strength of one angel wing equivalents to the strength of three grown up men, right?”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed, “Sam––”

“You were the one to tell me off when I cleaned him!”

Dean pushed Sam’s hands off his shoulders and walked towards the fridge. He took one bottle of beer out, while Sam went all _John_ on him.

“Sam,” Dean said trying to stop his brother, “It’s okay. He’s not violent.”

He winced at his own words. He sounded like he was talking about a wild animal but not Cas. The bond closed up as Dean tried to seek for Castiel’s surroundings.

Yeah, he thought as much.

“Um… I’m sorry, what?” Sam’s eyes were comically wide, “Who’re you and what did you do to my brother?” he made his hands into a trumpet and towered over Dean’s head, “Dean! Are you in there? Don’t worry I’ll get you out!”

Dean shoved his brother, so that Sam had no other choice but to step back. “Don’t be a bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replied automatically and they shared a knowing look. Sam smiled sadly, “What’s going on, Dean? You were the one saying how much of monsters they are. How they eat hearts and kill people. How dangerous they are. All of that!”

Dean gulped his beer and shrugged, “Maybe I was wrong.”

Sam shook his head, “Or maybe it’s the thing inside of you. Makes you trust your enemy.”

“Well, he trusts me as well.” Dean was aware of his voice getting louder. He tried getting a peek inside the bond. All he managed to get was the cool wind around his body and then nothing. Shut tightly.

“Does he?” Sam’s tone was mocking, “Okay, well, did you find anything on the yellow-winged angel then? Huh?”

Dean looked away. “He said that it didn’t ring a bell.”

Sam was silent, and Dean hated that his brother was that good at reading him. Even after all those years of silence, Sam was his family. He dropped the normal life of his and came running the moment Dean said that he needed him.

Dean sighed, “I think he’s lying.”

Sam threw his hands in the air, but thankfully didn’t say anything.

Dean felt like a giant piece of tool. Castiel had never been his friend, nor his kin. They shared an accidental bond together, but it didn’t mean shit when both of them couldn’t even share a house without fighting for one damn day.

Castiel didn’t trust him. He had asked Dean to stop carrying guns and knives around the house. Had removed the paper over the sigils that Dean had made as a matter of precaution, saying that it wasn’t fair to him.

The bond quivered inside of his chest but didn’t open up.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Sam told him that he had found out a person, claiming herself to be a magic healer. She’s a tattoo artist at day and a magic sigil remover at night. Sam had contacted her couple of days ago, and she agreed to accept them tomorrow.

“It’s an eight-hour drive from here. We’ll be there tomorrow if we leave early,” Sam concluded.

Dean considered his options. Did he even have a choice?

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Dean told Castiel the plan when the angel had returned later that evening. Dean noticed that his wings were ruffled again. He wondered if he would have a chance to clean them again.

Not that he wanted to.

Castiel agreed to follow the plan, suggesting he would fly to the healer’s house himself instead of driving with the brothers’. Wings could attract unwanted attention, and flying he would get there faster and unnoticed.

The bond whined against that, but Dean believed that parting for some time would be for the better. After his quick translation and a shared look, brothers agreed.

Impala came to life and Dean caressed the wheel lovingly, “Hello, baby.”

Huge pair of wings opened up right above the car, carrying Castiel up. Dean looked away only after the angel had hidden behind the trees.

The bond could only shiver as it attempted absorbing something that simply wasn’t there. Dean reached up to it, but there was nothing on the other side. Just dark sky and cool wind. So he abandoned the bond as well, succeeding on ignoring it, until it was nothing but a quiet buzz in the back of his head.

Tomorrow, he was going to be free of that as well.


	9. “Dean, don’t do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaay. I think we've had enough of slow build, time for actions, right? Also, wanted to point out that Sam's a very smart little puppy.  
> P.S. huge plot uncovering coming soon :)

Castiel was finally flying. After all the time being tied up, he could soar back up in the sky. In moments like that, he felt sorry for humans who could have never experience what he could. The way his muscles moved underneath the skin and wings pushed him up and forward. The feeling of being completely free.

Wind burned Castiel’s bruises slightly, but it was tolerable. The wound in his shoulder was not though, so Castiel stopped often to take breaks.

He would be in place far earlier than the brothers anyway.

The bond tugged desperately, and Castiel knew that Dean must have tried to contact him. Castiel closed it up, before the pressure of pain in his shoulder could leak into it.

Dean was a mystery to him.

He was all hard lines and sharp words and tough attitude but the moment he had touched Castiel’s wings, Castiel had been ready to melt into the gentleness of the feeling. He could have never imagined the hands of a hunter to be so soft and caring.

The memory made Castiel shiver in the cool wind and he unfolded his wings ready to fly again.

However, the freedom of flying didn’t help. Castiel’s mind was preoccupied with Dean. He tried to push it away, tried to force himself to stop thinking about the human. But the memory of determination in Dean’s eyes right before he kissed Castiel pierced through all the willpower Castiel had. And there was no stopping it now.

Castiel had to take a break again.

He was breathing hard but it was only partially from the flying. His hands rubbed his shoulders in an attempt to warm them up.

Dean’s lips were so warm when he had kissed him. And Dean’s hands had been as soft as Castiel had remembered them to be. Castiel so desperately wanted _more_.

Castiel forced the memories of the kiss away, and his wings trembled in the cold. He let out a huff of laugh, remembering that Dean had added his own shampoo into the basket.

The day before he had been carrying a gun around the house.

That human was a piece of unsolvable mystery.

Castiel swallowed hard as he remembered Dean washing his wings. He had certainly had no idea what he was doing when he had touched the _certain parts_ on Castiel’s wing. When he had moved his hands right where he shouldn’t have all Castiel could do was bite on his bottom lip and try not to let any sound out.

Dean had noticed though, of course he had. Hunter senses and all that. Castiel had played it out as a laugh, and Dean had looked like he had bought it.

There was nothing funny in the way Castiel’s body trembled under Dean’s touch. In the way that his wings opened up for him easily, bending and moving the way Dean had wanted them to.

Simply put, if his wings were cats they would have purred.

And the most frustrating part was that it wasn’t the bond. Castiel had felt it, clear as day, shining happily and cozily into the feeling of them being so close. But it had never crushed him, nor pushed him over the edge and into the mating-thoughts. As surprising as it was, bond had been behaving quite respectful.

Still there was no telling if the kiss was all Dean. As well as the happy feeling that had Castiel quivering in Dean’s hands could not be one hundred percent him.

Their feelings and emotions did not belong to them. Not until the bond was going to be shut down.

That was why Castiel had pushed Dean away the night before. He was too drunk to understand what had been truly going on. But he felt it, as bright as day, Dean’s hands on his body.

The moment their skin touched Castiel was ready to melt into to the warmth of it. The rightness of Dean’s hands on him was crushing his lungs and all Castiel could do was to lean into it, murmuring Dean not to stop.

And then Castiel’s eyes had swung open, realizing that he had truly wanted it, _desired_ it. He wanted Dean to touch him, mark him, _mate_ him. He had felt utterly disgusted with himself. So he had thrown Dean as far away from himself as he physically could.

Dean had no right to feel so good; he had no right to care for him, to be so kind and so tentative. And what had frustrated Castiel even more than that, Dean had actually trusted Castiel enough to let his guard down.

And that wasn’t fair, because Castiel didn’t trust Dean that way. Dean was nobody to him and Castiel had had every right to defend himself.

The bond gasped at the emptiness and Castiel shoved it away.

His wings opened up and he jumped into the wind only to be pulled to the side by some kind of a violent force. Wings clasped desperately not being able to unfold. Castiel opened his eyes to see the sky above him dark shade of blue.

He was falling.

His hands grabbed hopelessly onto the ropes bound around him. There was no way he could tear them, the ropes were too thick.

The tops of the trees appeared in his view, and Castiel could only stare, his body going rigid.

The feeling of freedom drained through his fingers as the desperation and fear leaked towards the bond.

Then there was nothing.

╠══════════╣

Dean waited patiently for Sam to get tired of fanboying over Dean’s knowledge of Enochian. The boy was unbelievable. Even after Dean had explained that it wasn’t actually the knowledge but more of a bond-translation, Sam was still pretty excited about that new found ability of Dean’s.

Dean wasn’t complaining, not with his little brother sitting in the passenger’s sit and smiling and gesticulating like he was thirteen yet again and excited about this new book John had bought for him.

“Wow, just–– Wow…” Sam concluded and Dean chuckled.

Dean shook his head but decided not to comment on Sam being a total dork. Sam checked his phone and hid inside his pocket after couple of minutes.

“So, tell me,” he said suddenly, “What was all that ‘Castiel’s a good guy’ talk?”

Dean pursed his lips and cleared his throat, “Well, Cas told me about his kind a bit.” Sam’s eyebrows lifted and Dean knew what was so surprising to his brother. “Basically, he said that there are two angel camps out there. The good guys and the bad ones. I assume that the guy we’ve been after is from the unfriendly one. And Cas there is from the hippie camp.”

Sam nodded and then hummed thoughtfully.

“I had… I had a roommate back in the uni. He was flying high as kite all the time. But he was pretty sure that we had it all wrong about the angels. He’d always say that they were not monsters we thought they were.

“This dude and I, we would always fight about it, with my history of knowing angels and stuff,” Sam laughed nervously, “And he actually told me that there are two families. And each family has its own leader, a superior. Michael and Lucifer.”

Dean glanced at Sam, “Lucifer, really?”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, they call him that. He was the one to announce the war between angels and humans. That is if you believe my roommate.”

Dean remembered the angel with dark hair who had announced that Castiel had not belonged with them and flew away. All the others followed him. He must have been Michael.

“Okay,” Dean said, hands gripping the wheel tighter, “Assume we believe him. Does this mean that the hippie camp may be on our side?”

Sam looked at him clearly amused, but then cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, not exactly. They’re... not taking part in any of it, keeping as far away from the battles as possible.”

Even going as far as abandoning the members of their own family if they got involved with men.

Dean’s hands gripped the wheel tighter. “What about the relation of the two camps? They keep in touch?”

Sam shrugged, “No. As far as my roommate was sure, they’ve not been on the bestest of terms. Lucifer tried taking the _hippie camp_ over, but got overpowered by Michael and retreated. Since then his soldier-angels are tracking the hippie-angels.”

“Why?”

Sam sighed, “That my roommate didn’t know. But get this,” his eyes shined excitedly, “My roommate was sure that the war camp had people working on his side too.”

Dean frowned and judging from Sam’s pleased smile that was the reaction he was hoping for. “Crazy believers?”

“Nope. Hunters.”

Sam waited for that information to settle in Dean’s head.

“Um, why would hunters work for angels? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Dean remembered how afraid Castiel was of the guns and maybe Dean had had an idea now.

“Knowledge, money, wings, feathers, entertainment, who knows. There are endless possibilities, if you think about it,” Sam shifted in his sit uncomfortably and Dean mirrored the motion, “Keep your friends close…”

Dean nodded. That he could understand. Hunters needed some way to get more knowledge about angels: what made them tick and what made them stop ticking. And angels could have needed somebody who had access to guns and other toys of men. So the idea of that union actually existing wasn’t that crazy, if you think about it.

The memory of Castiel’s wings so soft and pliant shined brightly in his head. Dean had to force it away. He wasn’t in the mood for the bond-play.

Rock music played quietly in his car, his brother sitting by his side and for the first time in forever, it felt like everything was finally right in his life.

Dean turned up the music and smiled, his fingers tapping on the wheel with the rhythm of the song.

╠══════════╣

The feeling hit him couple of hours later. It burst out of his chest and into his head like a supernova explosion inside of his body. It was bright and hot and everything that it had been before and all Dean could think of was _Cas_.

Sam was fast to grab the wheel and keep the car on the road, while the feeling of warmth disappeared into darkness as Dean was flashed with fear and helplessness and _ropes_ _sky_ _can’t move._

 _Dean_.

And nothing. There was nothing. No buzz, no tugging. Just plain and all forgotten silence.

“Cas?”

Dean had tried to reach up, tried to run out to it. But the place where it had been shining brightly and warmly, there was nothing now. It was endless darkness and Dean felt lost.

Dean was out of the car the moment Sam had managed to stop the car somehow. The sky was still and dark, nothing around him moved.

Sam followed him outside, “Dean! What the hell!”

“It’s gone,” Dean managed to breathe out, turning back to the car.

Something might have happened to Cas. He was trying to say something. And because the bond was closed all he managed to get through were those five words.

Dean wanted to puke.

“What’s gone?” Sam was looking at him with those big eyes of his.

“Cas. I don’t–– He’s gone.”

Dean tried, again and again, but there was nothing. His chest was hollow. Dean felt his fingers scratch his scalp.

“No, no, Dean. It can’t be,” Sam said, circling the car. He took Dean’s arm and turned it around. Right in the middle of his palm there was that tiny damn sigil, “It’s not gone. It can’t be, not completely, remember?”

Dean reminded himself to breathe. In and out. Sam nodded encouragingly. Sigil was still there, untouched. So maybe, Castiel was alive too.

“Cas’ gotta be fine. _Has_ to be,” Sam said slowly, “And we’ll find him. It’s gonna be all right. Okay?”

Why did he let Castiel fly on his own? He didn’t even think twice letting him go all alone like that. Like he didn’t care at all what happened to Cas. Did he even care?

“All right? _Dean_!”

Dean blinked and cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

It was all his fault. As it had always been.

Cas had told him that it was not real, but Dean really had believed that it was. He had tried to believe that so badly. In reality, it was all a fucking illusion. He hadn’t cared one bit.

And now Cas was gone.

╠══════════╣

He didn’t remember how they got into motel. He certainly didn’t remember driving there. Maybe Sam was driving them instead, Dean couldn’t recall. But by the time he had stopped trying to seek for the bond, running around in the blackness and calling out for Cas, he was sitting on the bed in a motel room.

Sam was sitting in front of him, his very worried and very puppy eyes staring back at Dean. “Can you remember anything?”

Dean rubbed his face trying to grasp onto every little detail as possible, “He was scared, trapped. His wings… they were–– they were tied,” there was something else, there was certainly something _more_ , “There were words. Um… sky, ropes, can’t move.”

Sam nodded slowly never taking his eyes off Dean. He was thinking, trying to put everything together.

“Okay,” he said at last, “He was flying, and then he must have been attacked by one of those hunter traps.”

Sounded about right.

“Can you find out where or––”

“No.”

There was nothing more because the bond had been closed. Because Dean was a selfish prick. He closed up the space between them as tight as he could not even thinking once that Cas might be danger.

And Sam knew him too well for his own good, “Dean, stop punishing yourself.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean stood up and walked to the fridge. There had to be a mini-bar in this place. He searched for whiskey. Any kind of whiskey really.

Sam was staring at him as Dean poured himself some. Alcohol tasted sharp and burning on his tongue, just the way Dean liked it.

“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam’s voice was worried.

Dean poured himself some more. “Do what?”

“Burry yourself in the alcohol. Like dad.”

Dean’s hand froze in one place, the glass in his hand half-empty, “Don’t you compare me to _him_. Ever.”

Sam pursed his lips and looked away. He stood up suddenly, walked to his bag and took out a laptop. Dean watched as his little brother opened it and started typing swiftly. Dean glanced into the screen, but couldn’t understand a word.

“What’re you doin’?”

Sam typed for some more time and then turned the laptop around to get Dean a better view. There was a map of the state they were currently in.

“Suppose, Castiel flew with a general angel speed known to humans.”

“78 miles per hour,” Dean leaned closer to the screen.

Sam nodded, “Suppose, Castiel made couple of stops on the way,” Dean looked at him questioningly and Sam hurried to explain, “The wound in his shoulder, not flying for a couple of days, it all could’ve effected him, right?”

Dean swallowed, “Right.”

“ _So_ ,” Sam made an accent on that word. “Knowing his general speed and the exact time he was captured, taking into consideration the possible amount and duration of stops, we have an easy math problem,” Sam stated and the map zoomed in suddenly, circling a part of a land, “And a possible solution.”

Brothers looked at it closely.

“Any thoughts?” Sam asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

Dean nodded, “Yeah.”

Sam’s eyes were suddenly on him, and Dean pointed to a small forest in the circle. Sam looked confused staring at the green picture on the map, “What about it?”

Dean leaned back and gulped his whiskey, “There ain’t no forests in those parts.”

For once in his life Dean was glad John had made him learn the map of the country. He didn’t understand it back when he was twelve, but growing up Dean had realized that some parts of his father’s map were different that the general ones that people usually used.

Hunters, as he had found years later, had cabins all around the country, secret ones that they had built to hunt the supernatural monsters in peace and comfort.

Dean had always found that ironic.

“It’s a hunter’s cabin. More of a small village, really. Church, bar and all that,” Dean though for a moment as liquor settled in his chest, “There might be somebody willing to help.”

Sam sat straighter, “Who?”

“You don’t remember her, you were too young,” Dean said vaguely. Sam answered him with bitch face, and Dean chuckled.

He felt optimistic now. The hunters living in that village were far from being assholes, Dean had stopped by a couple of times. Had great time there. He could even say that he had been proud of the hunters living civilized like that.

So it really should be quite easy to persuade them to let Cas go.

They stayed in the motel for the night and left in the early morning.

Dean couldn’t sleep. He had kept thinking about Cas and the bond. How just in the matter of days the bond had become a huge part of him. And without it being there anymore it felt like… nothing.

Dean wondered if Castiel felt the same.


	10. “Just let me know that you’re alive. It’s all I’m asking.”

He drove as fast as he possibly could, and they reached the place in an hour. Dean stopped the car right in front of the very particular bar and got out. When they walked inside, it was empty (no wonder). Chairs were laying upside-down on the tables, the floor wiped clean. Quiet rock music was playing in the distance, reminding them that they were standing in a bar.

“Sorry, we’re closed!”

Dean heard a familiar voice and grinned. Yeah, this was the place. “Too bad! I was ‘bout to leave a fortune in here!”

A woman appeared out of the back door, wiping her hands, “Too bad. You can take your money and shove it right down–– Dean, honey!” The woman smiled widely, her hands flying open to embrace one of the brothers.

Dean hugged her tightly. “Hey, Ellen.”

With Bobby and John gone Ellen was pretty much as close as he had got to a family. He stopped by her bar couple of times after he had started hunting solo, and she’d call him about once a month. They had never talked about it, but both of them knew why.

Ellen was all hard lines and tough love, but she was cool. Dean had never grew tired of talking to her. She was probably the only person in the world Dean could open up to. And if Dean allowed himself to think like that, she was almost like a mother to him. A very strict, but a very caring one.

“I don’t know if you remember, but this giant right here––”

Ellen shoved Dean aside looking at Sam up and down, “Don’t be an idiot, of course I remember Sam.” Her voice was much softer when she talked to him, “You grew into a fine young man, Sammy.”

Sam glanced at Dean and nodded clearly embarrassed, “Thank you.”

She stared at Sam some more, then winked at Dean and walked towards the bar, “So what can I do for you, boys?”

Dean sat down on a stool, his fingers entwining. Sam did the same, sitting down next to his brother and talked, “We’re looking for someone. An angel.”

There was chuckle in the doorway and another familiar voice spoke up, “Who isn’t these days.”

Dean’s smile grew wider, “Heya, Jo.”

The girl hadn’t changed a bit. Her big bright eyes looked at Dean with a slight amusement, her top was still too tight and jeans were hanging a bit too low on her hips as always.

She smiled wide if a little bit shy, “Hey.”

Sam was all business, “No, this one’s specific. He was abducted several hours ago in this area.”

“We thought you might have heard something,” Dean added.

Ellen and Jo exchanged confused looks and Jo shrugged. Ellen leaned on the counter. Her voice was gentle when she spoke, “Nowadays catching an angel is a big deal. So I truly would have heard. Sorry, boys.”

Sam looked at Dean apologetically and Dean had to look away. Ellen must have noticed the mood shift.

“He somebody special?”

Sam waited for Dean to respond. Dean couldn’t make his mouth work. Instead, he swallowed hard staring at the sigil.

Castiel was special, all right.

He was soft smiles and long mornings. He was pretty blush and three-day stubble. He was hard punches and silly jokes. He was blue eyes that could see right through your walls. He was messy hair and soft pink lips. He was big ass wings that could kill you but that also could take you up into the very skies.

Dean shook his head, “Nope. Just a guy we’re looking for.”

Ellen chuckled, “You sure ‘bout that?”

There was this look in her eyes. Dean clenched his fist and nodded.

╠══════════╣

The ropes cut into the skin of Castiel’s wrists as Castiel marveled at his own destiny. He had been attacked and took hostage for the second time this week. Wasn’t that ironic?

He cracked his eyes open.

He was locked in a small cage with iron bars. His wings were folded tightly to his back, and Castiel could feel cold metal sticking into the feathers. He expected his wings to be tied by chains fastened to the corners of the cage.

His hands and legs were tied by a thick piece of rope.

The cage was too small for him to stand up, so Castiel straightened up as far as the chains on his wings would allow him to. The room was dark and damp. It was hard to see anything, but Castiel was sure that he was alone.

He reached out for the bond. If he managed to allow Dean to see and feel everything he did, maybe the man could find him.

The bond was not there though.

Castiel swallowed, realizing that… That the bond was _shut down_ on his side. And maybe at all.

Wings shuddered against the ropes and Castiel straightened. He had felt the angel in the room before he saw him. All of his senses tensed at once, realizing what angel that was. Castiel’s wings suddenly felt too weak and fragile, the bonds around him too tight and crushing.

“Hello, nephew.”

The too sweet voice made its way to Castiel’s guts, twisting them in some wicked way. Castiel would choose being tied in Dean’s basement over this any day.

“Lucifer,” Castiel glared at the angel standing in the shadows. 

A pair of dark eyes stared at him in return. “Look at you, all grown up,” Lucifer commented, looking Castiel over, “Could make a fine soldier with right training.”

Castiel swallowed. He didn’t say that he had already had his training. That Michael was no fool. He may have kept his family away from the battlefield, but he had never let his guard down. He trained every family member himself, making sure that if time came, his family would be able to defend itself.

Castiel didn’t say it though. Just glared at his uncle, knowing that that man would spill all the information without any questions asked. He just loved talking.

“How’s that bond of yours doing, by the way?”

Castiel felt shivers run down his sides at the mention of the bond. The very silent and very vanished bond. Castiel squeezed his jaws.

“Honestly speaking, when I’ve heard the news, I couldn’t make myself believe them. But then one of my minions informed me of a human sniffing around and trying to find out a way to shut down a ‘special kind of bond’, well… I’m rarely surprised these days. But believe me, when I tell you that I was _very_ impressed.”

Castiel tugged at the ropes and felt something run down the palms of his hands.

“Force-bonding is quite rare after Michael’s ban,” Lucifer was not asking any questions, but it was clear that he waited for Castiel to spill out any information on their family. “How did it feel, by the way? Being bonded to a human.”

The past tense wasn’t unnoticed by Castiel, “Bothersome.”

“Huh,” Lucifer has a finger on his lips, “And how does it feel now not having it around anymore?”

Empty, hollow, dark, lonely.

Castiel crushed his teeth and turned away. He had said none of that, of course. But the ghost of the bond was scrubbing at the emptiness of Castiel’s chest and all Castiel could do was ignore it.

So he looked into the Lucifer’s eyes and lied, “Like I was freed.”

A smile touched Lucifer’s lips and Castiel knew that it had been the right thing to say.

“No wonder,” the angel hummed thoughtfully, and Castiel felt his gaze run all over him, “The human wasn’t keeping you in the best shape.”

Castiel swallowed, the wound in his shoulder throbbed suddenly and Castiel knew it was bleeding again. The one on his foot pulsated the way it had never had before. Every tiny scar on his wing ached.

His body was giving in into the sweetness of Lucifer’s voice and Castiel could only hang on for the long ride.

He let out a hard sigh.

“Humans… they’re beasts,” Castiel rasped.

Lucifer studied him, a small smile tugging onto his lips, “I’m glad you’re feeling that way.”

In the darkness Castiel could only make out some lines of his face, but he could clearly see the burning scars that adorned his features.  Michael had left them as a sign of defeat and shame.

“Cassie,” his voice was softer, snaky, “I have indeed had your bond shut down, so it won’t bother us.”

Castiel nodded. He had guessed as much.

“What I am capable of doing, is much greater, though.” Lucifer’s eyes flashed hungrily and he made a step forward. Little light fell on his features and Castiel’s wings shuffled at the bonds, “I can make it disappear. Completely. Like it had never been there.”

Castiel felt like he was drenched in icy cold water.

“How does that sound?”

There was no bond telling Castiel how to feel or what to see. It was all Castiel when his heart pounded hard and scared in his chest, when his wings tried to ruffle free and get him out of there, when his eyes saw a monster standing in front of him.

“Peachy.”

Lucifer smiled. “Wonderful.”

He walked around the cage and Castiel felt his body go stiff under his uncle’s gaze. He stared at Castiel’s wings adoringly. Castiel felt his insides going still.

“Let’s make a deal then, shall we?”

Castiel turned away and nodded. Lucifer waited for him to say it out loud and Castiel knew he should be playing by the angel’s rules. That way he could win himself some time at least.

But when Castiel opened his mouth to speak, the words that came out were, “You can take your deal and shove it down your ass, uncle.”

╠══════════╣

Dean couldn’t sit still, trying to understand what had happened. It had to be one of the hunters in the village. _Had to be!_

Sam was beside him, googling or whatever, suggesting theories. Ellen and Jo were kind of helpful too. They had called every hunter they knew had been around last night. However, none of them had heard about the abducted angel.

The last straw for Dean was when Sam had suggested that maybe he hadn’t understood correctly of what had actually happened. Maybe Castiel was all right already at a place they were supposed to meet at.

Dean stormed out of the bar. He needed some fresh air to think.

He wasn’t delusional, Cas was gone. As simple as that.

The only thing that had him going was the stupid sigil on his palm and knowing that there was no way anybody could break their bond. Somebody had shut it down, after they got to Cas, so he was most likely alive. The unaffected tattoo was the proof of that.

Dean leaned on Impala and sighed. He reached out for the bond, for the hundredth time that day, but all he got in return was coldness in the dark.

“Right,” he breathed out, rubbing his forehead nervously. He looked around. Making sure that nobody was there, he closed his eyes. Dean swallowed and, reaching for the shutdown bond, “Uh, hey, Cas.”

Words to nothingness felt strange to Dean. They tasted heavy and bitter on his tongue and Dean had to clear his throat to speak again.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he chuckled but there was no laugh in his voice, “Having you… not here. Not knowing if you’re all right. Worrying for your feathery ass.”

Dean swallowed again trying to find the right words in a desperate belief that maybe, _maybe_ Cas was able to hear him.

“It so strange. I mean, couple of weeks ago I had no idea you existed. A week ago I wouldn’t even care if you died…” Dean huffed out a laugh, “You were nothing but another monster to me.”

Dean recalled Castiel in his basement, hungry, thirsty, bleeding. Scared shitless of _him_. Dean hadn’t given a damn back then. It had all been for a good cause so there hadn’t been anything stopping him from torturing an angel.

One week later, and Dean was ready to crack the world open if that meant he would find Cas.

“I’m… I’m sorry for––for _that_ , by the way. Uh,” Dean let out a shaky breath, “I’ll find you, Cas. I promise, I will. I’ll kill every son of a bitch who did this, every single fucker who hurt you, I _swear to God_. I’ll pay for the things I did to you, too, if you want me to,” Dean smiled again and licked his lips, “But you gotta help me, man. Give me something, _anything_.”

Dean reached out again into the darkness. He ran around, trying to feel any kind of warmth, any kind of brightness.

“Just let me know that you’re alive. It’s all I’m asking,” Dean whispered into the blackness, “Come on, Cas.”

The bond was not there, Dean knew that. He wasn’t delusional. It was shut down and there was no way that Cas could have contacted him, but…

_Lucifer._

Air left his lungs.

Dean’s eyes flew open.

He was in a dark room. Bars. Wet. _Hurt_.

There were ropes around him, he couldn’t move.

“ _Dean!_ ”

Dean blinked into the light. He was being pushed up. There were people around him saying something. Dean swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, but it was dry.

There were hands all around keeping him safe.

Dean blinked again. Sam’s face came into view. He was saying something, his eyes big and worried, but Dean couldn’t hear him.

“ _Lucifer_ ,” Dean breathed out, making his legs listen to him; his hands fell on his brother’s chest, “Cas––he––”

Dean shoved Sam aside and threw up, falling back onto his knees.

Cas was alive.

╠══════════╣

Half an hour later and Dean still tried to make his heart calm down.

His head was aching with thoughts, memories and feelings. Ellen got him one of her best whiskeys and it had actually helped a bit, dulling the noise.

Sam cleared his throat, attracting Dean’s attention.

“So,” he said slowly, “Uh, Lucifer kidnapped Castiel?” Dean nodded slowly and Sam nodded as well, “And he’s keeping him in some dark room. Most likely in a basement. In a cage.”

Dean nodded again.

He knew what his brother was trying to say. That it was a suicide going after Cas into Lucifer’s arms, the angel who had actually started an interspecies war. But it didn’t matter to him. He had to get Cas back.

And it wasn’t about the bond, it wasn’t about the feeling of warmth in his chest or whatever.

Cas was in pain. And scared. And he was Dean’s friend. Hopefully.

So it wasn’t in Dean’s rules to just let Cas rot in that cage, no matter Lucifer or not.

And by the look Sam gave him, he had realized that already.

“Dean,” he sighed, “There’s no way… Lucifer is a _myth_. Dad was after one of his kind for how long? _Twenty years_ , Dean. And he died before he found the guy!” Sam threw his hands in the air, “And you’re suggesting we go after a myth that we’re not even sure _exists_?”

Dean simply nodded.

Sam shook his head, “Dean, it’s––” he was silent for some time, “I can’t let you do this. I’ve already lost both of my parents to the angels. There’s no way in hell I’m losing _you_.”

Sam’s voice was shaking, his eyes watery and Dean felt his heart clench in his chest.

He turned away, not bearing the picture of his little brother hurt.

“We’re family, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes. Family, and angels, and war, and Lucifer… He knew all that. Dean loved his brother more than anything in the whole world. He was ready to cut his own chest open and give his little brother his heart if it meant keeping Sammy safe.

But there was no way, he was going to let Cas die.

Dean didn’t care if that was the fucking bond or the exaggerated need to protect and keep safe. Right now, there was one simple thing he had been sure of.

Cas was hurt. And Dean was going to get him back.

So no, not even Sammy’s puppy eyes could stop him.

“You don’t understand. It’s not about the fucking bond,” Dean said at last, “I made a promise. And I intent to keep it.”

Sam was looking at him pleadingly, his eyes full of tears.

“Dean––”

“Sorry, Sammy.”

“Uh,” Jo hummed suddenly and the brothers had to look away, realizing that they weren’t alone in the room anymore, “I don’t want to ruin the moment here and everything, but… I might just know a place you’re looking for.”

The girl was smiling, a book in her hand. Dean stood up and walked towards her. She handed the book to him.

“It’s my Father’s journal. I know it by heart,” Jo said, and sadness clouded her voice, “He described abandoned places, like the one you’ve mentioned, around this area. There are quite few of them.”

Dean nodded, taking the journal from Jo’s hands and reading an open page hungrily.

“I might even have an idea, the exact place they hold your guy in,” Jo’s eyes flashed with interest, and she shrugged, “It might be just a shot in the dark here, but… It’s something.”

Dean sighed, “Thanks, Jo.”

Even after explaining his plan and going through it twenty times, Dean didn’t manage to convince Sam that it was going to be all right and that he wasn’t going to die.

Sam was as stubborn as John and Dean gave up after twenty first attempt.

Instead of trying it the twenty-second time, he waited for the night and sneaked out of the bar. After checking all the ammunition he still got in the trunk of his car from the time he had stolen Castiel, he got into Impala. The journal with Jo’s pencil notes was put carefully on the passenger’s sit and Dean started the car.

“Goin’ somewhere?”

Dean almost yelped. Ellen was smiling widely, leaning on the car’s window.

“For God’s sake, Ellen,” he breathed out, “I’ve had enough of trauma for today, don’t you think?”

The woman shrugged, “Nah, you’re fine.”

Dean swallowed. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Really?” Ellen’s eyebrows went up.

“Yeah. That I shouldn’t leave Sammy behind like that. That it’s dangerous and I shouldn’t go alone. Hot-headed, rash, reckless and all that. And whatever’s out there, it isn’t worth losing my brother.”

Ellen nodded and hummed thoughtfully, “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

Dean swallowed, “Well. Thanks, Ellen. But I’ve made my mind.”

Ellen smiled sadly and Dean’s chest clenched from the softness of it. Dean couldn’t look at it, didn’t deserve it.

“You forgot the ‘what the hell you think you’re doing, you idiot’ and ‘be careful and come back soon’ parts.”

Dean chuckled. Ellen was still smiling when Dean looked at her. He nodded because there was no way in the world he was letting this woman down.

“I will.”

Impala drove quietly from to the driveway and Dean breathed out, his shoulders falling down.

“Sorry, Sammy,” he whispered to the empty passenger’s sit, “But I gotta make it up to Cas. For all the shit I’ve made him go through, I gotta make it up to him. So I can’t have him dying on me.”

Impala roared confidently and Dean smiled.


	11. Don’t you wonder away on me, you hear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, this was so exciting to write, guys! After all the domesticity you finally have some action. Also a little bit of background info. Also a little bit of turture. And Hurt/Comfort. And just tiny bit of badass Cas. And comforting Dean.  
> Anywaaaaay. I hope that you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it ^^

“Wake him up… start all over…”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not sure this… working… told…”

“Sir, I assure… it _will_ … a little time.”

“One day. Do… but… kill him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Castiel was grasping at the words in the distance like at a last straw.

He was drenched in water. Cold. His wings were shaking in their boundaries. Castiel was not sure of what was happening.

His mind wondered around in the emptiness of his mind. He could remembered warmth spreading suddenly almost crushing his chest. He had heard Dean’s voice. Somehow, through the darkness and the nothingness, he had heard–– no. He had felt Dean. He had pushed forward to him. Almost catching, almost being able to sense Dean, almost hearing words, almost smelling fresh air and whiskey, almost seeing green.

And then he had blacked out.

“Wake-y, wake-y!”

His eyes refused to open. Cold water was splashed into his face again.

It was dark. He tried moving his hands, but got nothing. They were tied above his head. His feet could not touch the ground. His body refused to listen to him, every muscle in it felt sore. Even his wings hang tiredly behind him, ten times heavier than ever.

“There he is,” an unfamiliar voice sounded, and Castiel felt sick, “Hey, Luc! He’s up!”

Castiel heard footsteps and tried straightening up. He had something on his face, he realized. He was blindfolded.

“Cassie, Cassie…” Lucifer’s voice was unmistakable, “I’m disappointed.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Castiel rasped, his voice even lower than usually. His throat felt like he had drank something hot and his mouth felt like he had eaten rotten meat.

It was silent for some time. And then he was burning. A gasp left his lips and the burning stopped. Not burning, electricity.

Castiel was breathing hard.

“Michael showed mercy keeping you alive,” Castiel croaked before he could think twice.

Lucifer hummed from somewhere behind him, and Castiel’s breath hitched. He tried not to show it though.

“You speak too loud for the angel in your position,” Lucifer said with his singsong voice.

It was only then that Castiel had realized why his wings felt so heavy. They couldn’t move, something pulling them down by hooks in the tender skin of the wings. He froze in one place, swallowing.

“You won’t dare.”

He heard Lucifer chuckle, “Why? ‘Cause you’re Michael’s son?” he asked, and Castiel could hear his uncle circling him, “Well, Michael had no problem with me being his _brother_.”

Castiel felt his insides twist in disgust. His wings ruffled and shook, beaten and almost broken, they still tried to set themselves free.

“Do you remember that day?” Lucifer asked, suddenly standing close to Castiel, “You were just a child, but Michael made you watch.”

Castiel tried to think, tried to get any fucking idea in his head right now, but all he could concentrate on was the weight of his wings. The bend in the bones.

“I don’t remember.”

“Don’t lie to me, Cassie. You do. You remember everything,” there was something touching his wing and Castiel flinched to the side only to realize that he couldn’t move. His legs were tied to the floor, keeping him in place.

Castiel had never been so scared in his entire life.

Lucifer moved his hand into the feathers and up to the main bone. Wings shivered underneath the touch.

“You remember it, of course you do. The sound. The _crack_. The tearing of muscles. Me _begging_ him to stop,” Lucifer’s fingers curled around the bone, crushing soft feathers, and Castiel had to clench his jaws not to make any sound, “He didn’t. So why should _I_?”

There was nothing even close to sympathy in Castiel. All he felt was disgust and fear. Castiel wondered what it must feel like, living like Lucifer did. With no wings carrying you into the sky, with feeling of nothingness behind him.

There were footsteps behind, him and Castiel’s head turned to the side. He tried flinching away, tried doing _anything_. There were clinks and ringing and then something was piercing right through the wing.

Moan left Castiel’s lips before he could stop it. The tearing of the other wing was no less painful, but Castiel managed to breathe it through, his teeth squeezed shut.

Castiel’s wings were suddenly too heavy.

There were tears in his eyes and Castiel was actually thankful for the blindfold.

Castiel could feel Lucifer smiling in his face.

“Gotta give it you, nephew. Michael cut mine in one motion. Yours will amputation is going hurt so, so much. I guarantee.”

God, it was already hurting too much. It took everything in him, not to beg for mercy. He wasn’t going to make any deals with Lucifer. He was stronger than that.

His wings trembled, bending down almost impossibly so.

All it took were several minutes. Maybe an hour, if he was lucky. And then they would give in. And Lucifer was going to tear the muscles with his own hands, Castiel was sure.

He made himself breathe.

“What do you want?”

Lucifer hummed again, he was standing aside now, watching from the distance, enjoying the view.

“I tried to reason with you. You lost your chance.” He said simply, “Now, I’m just going to ruin you. Tear apart your wings and your bond. And then send you back to Michael.”

“What _for_?”

He heard Lucifer chuckle, “Because I can,” he said, stepping closer to Castiel again, “Because you were there. Because you are Michael’s son. You want me to continue?”

There were cold hands on his shoulders, but Castiel didn’t react. He was too tired.

“You’re going to be his damnation.”

Hands traveled up to his chin, and Castiel reminded himself to breathe. Everything in his body hurt. Castiel made himself think of long showers and hot coffee. Of Dean’s food and slow mornings together. Of the touch of Dean’s hand, soft and gentle. Of the way he smiled so sincerely. Of green eyes and funny freckles.

The blindfold was gone from his eyes and Castiel blinked into blue eyes. They were calm and almost inviting. Almost even caring. Castiel felt goosebumps run down his spine.

“Feels too good to be true,” Lucifer said, his hands traveling down Castiel’s torso, “I didn’t even have to do anything. You came to me.”

Lucifer was smiling as his hands sunk into bruised feathers. Wings shook in a failed attempt to get away. Long fingers caressed strained skin. Blue eyes stared right into Castiel.

“Must feel nice,” he whispered, “To have them.”

Castiel breathed long breaths, but his lips still trembled, “You deserved your punishment.”

Lucifer hummed, his hands left Castiel’s wings, and Castiel breathed out. Blue eyes looked down and Castiel followed the motion, noticing a long black feather in his uncle’s hands.

“That may be true,” Lucifer said thoughtfully, “But it doesn’t matter now.” Blue eyes were back on Castiel, “Do you want to see your future, nephew?”

Lucifer didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he made couple of steps back and took his shirt off. Castiel could see every scar, every part of his body that had been touched by Michael’s blade. And if that wasn’t enough, Lucifer turned around.

Castiel turned his head and shut his eyes. He couldn’t bear it.

The sight of torn out wings made tears come rushing back. And he couldn’t show his weakness, not now.

He felt it inside of him, though, with every particle of his body.

“No, nephew, you have to look.”

Electricity broke through his body and Castiel’s eyes flew open. Hands on Castiel’s chin and in his hair were pulling his head up.

Lucifer’s wings. Castiel could see them, merely black bones sticking out of Lucifer’s shoulder blades. Red scars around them, like still dry blood.

A tear dropped down his cheeks. He just couldn’t help it.

“No,” he breathed out.

Lucifer shrugged, “You’ll get used.”

Castiel closed his eyes head falling down. He had to think of something, had to find a way out.

“I’m going to kill you, Lucifer,” he rasped suddenly. Lucifer was standing right in front of him and before blackness covered his eyes Castiel glared into the fallen angel’s eyes, “So you better enjoy yourself for now.”

Lucifer smiled, “Oh, I’m enjoying myself, Cassie. Don’t worry.”

With that he was blindfolded again. Then there was a loud sound of door closing.

Castiel breathed out, letting a moan escape his lips finally, now that he was alone. He tried pulling and pushing, and every time the weight on his wings seemed to increase. Castiel whined through clenches teeth, image of tore out wings burned into his memory.

There was no way anything could save him. But Castiel only wished he would be able to see Dean afterwards. To tell him that he forgave him for everything. It all faded in comparison to what was going to be done to him now.

Castiel understood. Dean wasn’t a bad man, he had just been living a bad life. And he hadn’t known any better.

So Castiel had forgiven him. Long ago, actually.

And he wished there would be a chance to tell Dean that.

His body felt sore and tired being pushed to its limits once again. Castiel couldn’t feel his hands or his legs. His upper body was stretched and hurt all over. There was no way he could get out of it.

Blood ran down his arms.

And maybe he had an idea.

Castiel moved his stiffened fingers, bending them down to the wrist, where the ropes were cutting the skin to the point of bleeding.

                                                  ╠══════════╣

Dean knew that it was the right place, the moment his car stopped. Not because of the bond, nor because of his hunter senses. No.

Because there was frigging white light pouring out of every window and people were running out of the doors just to stumble and fall once they were outside. They were screaming like crazy.

“Huh,” Dean sighed, leaning on the wheel and peering into view.

Well, that’s a new.

Dean wasn’t going to admit that Sam was right and his plan didn’t cover all the possibilities. Instead, he checked his guns and knives and got out of the car. He walked slowly to the house, gun held tight to his side. The light didn’t fade, but no more people came rushing outside.

Once Dean got closer to the house, he hid behind the corner, peeking out. He could see all the people from where he was standing. Men were hunters, that one was certain.

They had their eyes burned out.

And then there were crushing noises coming from the inside of the house. Dean turned his head to get a glance inside the window, but the glass was suddenly shattered and there was a body flying through.

Dean moved his hand from his face in time to see it.

Not a body.

Castiel.

He landed twenty feet away from Dean, falling down on the ground. Some kind of kettlebells fell by his sides.

Dean felt his chest tighten, air stuck in his lungs.

He swallowed, looking at his angel, knowing that he should be running to him, helping him, taking care of him. But his hunter senses didn’t allow him to. His legs were stuck to the ground.

And yeah, thanks for the training, John.

Next moment another body was getting through the broken window and Dean pushed himself into the wall. The man walked towards Castiel and Dean gripped gun tighter, making himself breathe quieter.

“You’re not the one to give up easily, are you, Cassie?” the sweat and terrifying voice sounded.

Dean watched as Cas got on his feet shakily, pulling the weights off the ground. Dean only now had realized that the weights were attached to Castiel’s wings. In the darkness it was hard for Dean to understand the mechanism, but he could clearly see the unnatural bending of the wings where they were being pulled down.

He felt his insides twitch in anger.

 “What’s with that look, nephew?” the man talked again, not stopping until he was standing right in Cas’ face.

Dean swallowed realizing that it wasn’t Castiel, not exactly. Glowing eyes, intimidatingly wide pulled wings, terminator glare. Dean had seen something like that before.

The man grabbed Cas by the neck suddenly, pulling him up. Wings raised shakily bending harder against the weights. Dean felt sickness crawl inside his belly. His hand moved on its own pointing the gun right on the guy’s back.

“Hey, you! Piece of shit!” The guy froze and it was only now that Dean realized that something was wrong with him. His back was unnaturally extensive. “If you don’t wanna get a bullet inside of your skull ya better let him go.”

The guy moved swiftly, his free hand gripping Cas’ arm and scratching the skin. Dean tracked the movement with the corner of his eyes, noticing blood on Cas’ arm. Next moment Castiel’s eyes darkened and his head bobbed down like a doll’s.

And then he fell to the ground. The guy turned around and Dean gripped his gun tighter.

“And what do we have here?” the man asked.

His face was scarred, but he didn’t look like he had minded it. His eyes were almost calm when they studied Dean and Dean felt his insides shiver under the gaze.

“Your worst nightmare, you freak. What the hell did you do to Cas?” Dean managed, his finger falling on to the trigger.

Dean saw something change in the man’s look. His features darkened suddenly, eyes glistening with interest now.

“Oh, You must be the human that made all my dreams come true. It’s a pleasure,” Dean swallowed as the guy made two steps closer, “I shall not be rude. Let me introduce myself. I’m Lucifer.”

Dean’s heart stopped that moment right there, “You gotta be joking.”

“Oh no, I’m absolutely serious,” the man said again, stepping closer to Dean.

Dean pointed the gun to Lucifer’s face, “Stand fucking back!”

The angel stopped, examining Dean. His eyes were bright and clean, but there was darkness inside of them. Lucifer put a finger on his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“I get a feeling that we have met before. What’s your name again?”

Dean swallowed, “I would have remembered a face like yours.”

Lucifer smiled, “Would you now?”

Dean’s fingers ached to shoot. Everything in him was screaming to shoot the angel. But it was like he wasn’t owner of his body anymore. It just froze in one place under the Lucifer’s gaze. And then he was pushed up, air stuck in his neck. Lucifer held him almost effortlessly, his eyes as unamused as moments ago.

Gun fell from his hands before Dean could register it. It was like his body decided to betray him right there. Lucifer pushed the gun away easily, his eyes watching Dean. The picture started getting blurry, the eyes of wrong shade of blue drilling into Dean’s head.

“Hey, assbutt!” familiar velvet voice sounded, getting Dean back to his senses. “Your fight’s with me!”

Lucifer’s eyes glistened and Dean was sliding down the wall, struggling to catch air with his mouth. He watched fuzzily as Lucifer he turned around to Castiel.

Cast had managed to pull himself up a bit, his hands holding him shakily. Dean’s hands moved searching for the gun, while Dean watched weakly as Lucifer stood over Cas.

“Unfortunately, this is going to be much quicker than I anticipated,” Lucifer said, circling around Castiel.

Fuck.

Dean had only couple of moments to think.

“Fucking _shit_ ,” his hands moved almost on their own, grabbing another gun and pointing it slightly over Lucifer’s head, “Cas! Grab onto something!”

Dean pulled the trigger before Lucifer turned to him. The red light flashed in the darkness of the night. Lucifer was pulled up and away. Dean was already running to Cas. His wings were torn between being pushed down by the weights and pulled up by the light.

Dean could only chant _fuckfuckfuck_ before falling down onto the angel, his hands spreading over the shaking wings, pushing them down.

“ _Sorrysorrysorry_ ,” he panted, his fingers caressing feathers apologetically, until the light vanished in the dark blue sky, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Cas. It’s okay now, I promise.”

He felt the wings fall underneath him tiredly. Castiel’s fingers unclenched were they were holding onto the grass. He was breathing hard and Dean was afraid to look at him. But knowing that Lucifer could be back in the matter of seconds made him move.

He leaned back on his heels, getting his weight off the angel.

“Cas, hey! You with me?” he asked, his hands already on the angel, helping him to get up, “Come on, talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel rasped.

He looked anything but fine, though. He was completely wrecked. Cas was shaking all over looking at Dean wide-eyed, as if not believing that Dean was actually there.

Dean was torn between wanting to hug Cas and make him feel safe and go chase that bastard and make him pay for what he did.

No, Cas came first.

Dean helped him sit, and looked over for any serious injuries, “Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me, come on. We don’t have much time.”

Castiel’s fingers tugged on Dean’s shirt tightly as the angel tried to manage his balance. He breathed hard and Dean’s hands clenched into fists.

“Hooks… get them out.”

Dean looked over Cas’ shoulder, where the wings were still lying on the ground spread open in an abnormal position. He nodded, moving behind him. Castiel fell on his hands the moment Dean had left his side.

“Cas!” Dean grabbed his shoulders trying to help.

“ _Dean_. Get. The hooks…”

Dean clenched his jaws and moved back. He tried to concentrate.

There were three weights attached to each wing at the very bottom. Hooks were quite thick themselves; there was dry blood around them. Dean touched the metal of the hook slightly and Castiel started.

Fuck, that was not going to be easy.

“Cas, it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

Castiel breathed out, head lying on the hands. “Get done with it.”

Dean swallowed. His fingers curled over the bottom of the hook. He tried ignoring Castiel’s breaths and whimpers. He managed to move the metal just so that the dried blood crumbled a little bit and wings were already shaking hard. Dean had to keep one of them with his free hand.

The hook refused to get out.

“ _Fuck_!” Dean groaned through clenched teeth. He leaned back getting sweat off his forehead and examining the wings, “No. I can’t, Cas. Not like this.”

He could hear Lucifer’s voice in the distance.

“Dean, get them out!” Castiel rasped.

Dean shook his head, leaning back over the wing. His fingers fumbled with the place where the hook was attached to the weights. It was a lock, a simple lock.

“Sorry, buddy, but you gotta bear it for some time,” Dean noted, detaching one metal from the other.

It took him just couple of second, and Castiel’s wings were free from the weights. There were still hooks hanging at the bottoms, but Dean could do nothing about them right now.

He moved back to Castiel, helping him up. He got one of the angel’s hands over his shoulders keeping it there tightly, his other hand was gripping Cas by the waist. He carried him to the car that way. Castiel felt too light in his arms.

Castiel whimpered when Dean helped him get into the backseat.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, buddy. Just a little bit more, okay?” he soothed closing the door. He moved fast getting into the driver’s seat, fixing the rear view mirror so that he could see Castiel.

Lucifer watched them as the car left the driveway. Dean could almost see his smile.

“Hey! Cas!” Dean watched as the angel shifted and shuddered in the backseat, trying to catch his own wings and then failing to do so, his hands falling down lifelessly, “Talk to me, buddy. Come on.”

Castiel just groaned, and Dean felt his heart sink in his chest.

“Nope, you’re not doing that. Tell me something. Anything. Come on. Don’t you wonder away on me, you hear?”

Castiel stopped moving and breathed out, “hurts…”

Dean almost missed the whisper it was so quiet. He speed up the car over the limit, not caring one bit.

“Yeah, I know. Just…” he swallowed, “Just think of something good? Stay with me, okay?” he could see Castiel’s eyes close, “Hey, Cas. When we get back I’m gonna make you my father’s famous cure all kitchen sink stew, all right?” he grinned into the mirror.

Castiel cracked his eyes open, corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

Impala drove over some kind of a rock and shook. Castiel whimpered again, his eyes screwed shut again. Hooks on his wings were moving from side to side and wings rattled in the closed space. Dean could only imagine the amount of pain Castiel was in.

 “Tell me about your family, Cas. What are they like?”

Castiel just breathed for some time. In and out deeply. And Dean didn’t expect him to answer.

“They are… kind,” he rasped, “And loud. Very loud…”

“Yeah?” Dean smiled despite himself, “And what about that redhead? Was she, uh… your girlfriend?”

Castiel’s eyes opened lazily, staring at the back of Dean’s head, “Anna?”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged.

He could only recall the color of her hair and the desperation with which she wanted Castiel to stay. Dean hadn’t cared back then. But now after everything that had happened, it was something he wanted to know. Also it was a chance to get Castiel’s mind off the pain.

“Anna is my little sister,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“Okay,” Dean breathed out, “Much younger?”

“Couple of years…”

Dean gripped the wheel tighter, “Tell me about her.”

Ellen’s bar was only ten minute ride from here. Still, Dean’s heart pounded. He would have never forgiven himself if something happened to Castiel.

“She’s… smart and beau–– beautiful,” Castiel whispered, “Started working early…”

“Working, huh?” Dean asked, glancing at the backseat. Castiel was breathing hard but otherwise stopped shifting.

“Yes, she’s… she’s out tribe’s healer. Both physical and… and emotional. Very special… for us.” Castiel was smiling, “I’m so proud… Had no chance to tell her that.”

“You will, Cas. I promise.”

There was no reason for Dean to say all those things, to feel the need to make Castiel safe. The bond was shut down, feelings and emotions were under their control now. Castiel was nobody to him, really. A guy he had lived with for a week or so.

The bond was gone.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” he said, “It was all my fault. I practically delivered you to him on a plate. I’m a fucking moron. And once we’re back I promise––”

“Stop…” Castiel whispered, “Dean… don’t.”

Dean swallowed, “Sorry.”

“Stop saying it.”

Dean clenched his teeth. He could stop saying it but he felt like shit. If he hadn’t kidnapped Castiel, if he had left him alone – nothing like that would have ever happened. Dean had no idea who was that Lucifer guy or what he had wanted from Castiel, but Dean was certain that he was a crazy freak and there was a solid reason that Castiel’s family was staying as far away from him as possible.

“I was selfish… Should’ve gotten in the car–– with you…” Castiel was breathing deeply between each spoken word, “But… I was afraid and…”

Dean frowned, “Afraid? What are you talking about?”

Castiel closed his eyes, his head rolling to the side. Dean couldn’t see the expression on his face now.

“Cas? What were you afraid of?”

It was silent for some time. Dean watched the road, counting the seconds that had passed. When Castiel spoke, it was almost a huff of breath, “You.”

Of course. Of course Castiel would be afraid of him.

Dean couldn’t blame him.

Dean was just a stranger, a kidnapper, an abuser. Just like Lucifer back there. He did to Cas the very same things that Lucifer did to him. What was he even expecting from the guy?

All Dean could do now was get Cas to Ellen’s place safely, get him all fetched up and let him go. He could do that for him.

So that was what he was going to do right now.

Dean gripped the wheel and ignored the aching in his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUUUUYS!!!!111!  
> I'm so sorry for the absence! The chapter was ready loooong ago. But I had to fly away for almost a month and then I realized that I forgot the fic on my laptop which I lfet at home! I'm an idiot -_-  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story :)  
> More chapters coming up soon!

By the time they reached Ellen’s place, Castiel got worse. He stopped trying to hold back the whimpers and with every little breath he took Dean got more desperate to get him to safety.

When the car stopped at the bar, Dean honked several times and ran to the backseat. He helped Castiel get out being extra careful and mindful of his wings. They managed to make couple of steps towards the bar when the doors flew open and Ellen, Sam and Jo came running towards them.

“Oh my god!”

“Dean!”

Castiel stiffened beside him, his legs stopping. Dean’s fingers caressed the skin on the angel’s hand.

“It’s okay, they’re friends,” he whispered.

Castiel didn’t move nonetheless. His fingers tightened on the fabric of Dean’s shirt, wings folded a little bit behind him. “I d–– I don’t want them to touch me.”

Castiel was holding on to him for dear life and all Dean could do right now was hold him back. He licked his lips, his hands tightened around the angel protectively.

“Okay,” was all he managed to reply.

Ellen and Jo froze in the place once they were able to distinguish Castiel’s wings in the dark. They shared a confused look.

“You gotta be frigging kidding me, kid,” Ellen blurted.

“What the hell, Dean!” Sam yelped looking concerned and spooked. Dean glared at him and Sam gave him one of his famous bitch-faces, calming down, “Let me help you.”

“No, no it’s fine,” Dean rasped, “Ellen, hey!”

Ellen blinked couple of times as if coming out of the trance.

Dean gave her a pointed look, “We’re kinda in the middle of the road here.”

Ellen cleared her throat, “Yeah. Right. This way,” she shot Dean a glance, “You owe me an explanation.”

She led them to the backdoor while Jo and Sam made sure that there was nobody outside to spot them. Ellen showed Dean to one of the vacant rooms and Dean helped Castiel lie down. Now in the light of the room Dean could see Castiel clearer. The guy was in much worse shape that he had previously thought.

Ellen looked at him wide-eyed, “What kind of monster did that to him?”

Castiel moved to his side trembling, wings stretching out and falling off the bed lifelessly. Hooks clanged when they had hit the floor.

“The one that’s gonna die in pain,” Dean snarled. Sam and Jo entered the room, their expression no less amazed than Ellen’s. “I’ll need some clean warm water, rags and bandages.”

Dean examined the wings falling to his knees to get better access. If he had thought that they looked terrible before, he had been wrong. What he was looking at _now_ was… simply horrifying.

Dean swallowed trying not to be emotional. He observed the way hooks dug into the skin and wondered how he could take them out without hurting Castiel. There was probably no way to do that.

Jo put a bucket of warm water and other stuff he had asked for next to him and Dean thanked her. He asked everybody to leave the room, and they surprisingly complied. Castiel’s shoulders fell visibly the moment the door was shut behind them.

“Cas, buddy, I’m gonna touch your wings now, okay? Just helpin’ here,” _please don’t freak out on me_ Dean added mentally, while he dipped one of the cloths into the water and wringed it. Using just the tip of the cloth he started scrubbing dry blood. Castiel was trembling in front of him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered, his voice low, and Castiel’s breath hitched, “I was thinking…”

Truth be told, Dean was not thinking about anything other than the way to pull those freaking hooks out of Cas without making it any more painful that it had already been. But he needed to make Cas stop thinking about the pain. He had to talk to him through it so it would be at least tolerable.

“I was thinking,” he repeated, “That it’s so brave of you to fly. It must be frightening.”

Castiel huffed out, “Not funny, Dean.”

Dean licked his lips, dipping the cloth in the water again. The water colored pink and Dean wringed the cloth again.

“No, I’m totally serious! I mean, I’m a complete wuss when it comes to heights,” he confessed, “Always hated the planes and all that… wing-y stuff.”

Castiel shook and Dean’s hands stopped. The angel was laughing Dean realized. He smiled to himself and continued scrubbing the blood.

“I got that much the day we met,” Castiel whispered, whimpering a bit when Dean brushed the hook accidentally.

“Oh, sorry.”

Dean finished with the first hook and moved to the next one. He tried to be careful but the blood was sticking to the feathers as well, attaching them to the hooks. So no matter how careful he was, it had to hurt anyway.

“I remember,” Castiel whispered, “The moment you shot me.”

Dean clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to scary Cas more. But Castiel was at least talking, so Dean wasn’t about to shut him.

“The moment I realized… what you were doing to me: bonding us, connecting to one another, I was terrified. Couldn’t even move. Probably should have,” he huffed out a laugh, “I didn’t understand why you were doing it. Thought that you had to be some kind of a pervert. I’ve been told of that kind.”

Dean tried not to think too hard into what Castiel was saying. Cloth moved carefully finishing the second hook.

“And then, when we were bonded,” Castiel whispered, “I saw the world from your perspective. It was just a mere second of memories, but I saw them so vividly, like I’ve been living them my entire life.”

Dean swallowed, touching the wing gently and shifting it so he could reach the third hook. The wing trembled in his hand slightly but moved obediently nonetheless.

“What did you see?”

“A battlefield.” Dean’s hands stopped at once. “I saw so much hurt and pain. You were just a child. It was unfair of the world to ask you to grow up so fast.”

Castiel sniffed and Dean clenched his jaws, returning to his job, “Well, it’s all in the past now. So there’s no need to be emotional about it. Everything’s forgotten.”

Dean finished the third hook and sighed. The hard part started now.

“I’m going to get the hooks out of your right wing now,” Dean stated, touching it slightly, “If it feels strange or hurts too bad you tell me, okay? No holding back, are we clear?”

Dean couldn’t see Castiel’s face from where he was sitting, so he waited patiently for the angel to talk.

“Yes,” Castiel answered simply.

Dean rubbed his forehead nervously, “Good.”

His fingers curled around the hook and Dean started pulling it slowly. It didn’t move at first, but after some persuasion Dean managed to get it moving, and eventually he pulled it out only struggling a bit with the tip. He threw the hook away like it was burning his hand and hurried to stop the blood.

Castiel let out a breath he had been holding.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s out. One out of six,” Dean said soothingly, using the toolkit that Jo had brought, “If you’re going through hell, keep going, right?”

Thankfully, stopping the blood was something Dean had been accustomed with more than pulling hooks out of wings. So it didn’t take him long to finish and bandage the wound, careful and mindful of all the feathers.

Dean was aware of Castiel trembling and whimpering, but could do nothing. He was already moving too slowly and doing everything even more carefully would mean that pulling all six hooks would take the whole night. And while Dean didn’t question Cas’ strength and patience, he still wasn’t sure that the angel could bear it that long in the state he was currently in.

Dean touched the second hook. Castiel was breathing hard his shoulders shaking and Dean felt like an asshole.

He sighed deeply.

“My mom died when I was four,” he said hesitantly, “She, uh, was killed during one of the attacks. An angel flew into our house, and… I still don’t know why, but he killed her and put our house on fire. Dad, Sammy and I managed to survive that night.” The hook was out before Dean had finished the sentence. He used a clean cloth to stop the blood, moving almost automatically.

“After that night my dad… Well, he got crazy. The whole purpose of his life was to find that angel and kill him. And me and Sammy… we just kind of tagged along. It wasn’t always bad, though. There were days of being a real family. Like when we sometimes went out for ice cream together. Or those couple of times when we went to the movies. You know. Stuff like that.” Dean licked his lips. His hands moved a little bit faster bandaging the second wound.

“Sammy grew up to be a huge pain in the ass,” Dean chuckled, “He was all ‘freedom’, and ‘choice’ and all that crap. Ran away the day he turned eighteen, got into university. The nerd. I can’t really judge him for that. Even though I really tried for some time back then.” Dean’s hands moved to the third hook, shifting the wing again. Dean checked for the remaining blood, but the wound looked clean. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway… Dad died some time later. Heart attack. Nobody could have seen it coming, you know? He had been a hunter last twenty years of his life. Been in the fights that no ordinary man can survive. And died from a heart attack. Just sitting at a desk. Reading,” Dean breathed out, “I was out to get breakfast. When I got back he was lying on the floor, hand over his heart.”

Dean finished with the third wound surprisingly easy. He leaned back on his hills gently folding the wing and laying it down. Just between the two wings Dean spotted the sigil, but decided that it wasn’t the time to examine it.

Dean got back to the second wing. He wringed the cloth. His actions were almost systematic now.

“I don’t know why I didn’t stop his hunt right there and then. I mean, I’ve never been a huge fan of it. Just did what dad told me to do. But for some reason, it seemed like I should continue his job, you know? So his life and his death wouldn’t be in vain, that kind of bullshit. Now that I think about it, that wasn’t the real reason.”

The water was almost red when he rinsed the cloth one last time.

“I think… after dad died I had no other purpose in life. Other than his mission, I mean. If I refused to follow his steps, well, I had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. And what kind of life was that? So… I chose the lesser of two evils.”

Dean threw away the already reddish cloth and curled his fingers around the hook.

“I’m pulling them out now. Remember the rules? No holding back, telling me if something feels wrong. Capish?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered quietly and Dean could see that he tensed at once.

Dean licked his lips and started pulling.

“Why––” Castiel’s voice broke off and Dean’s hands stopped, “Why didn’t you consider following Sam’s example?”

Dean started pulling the hook again.

“Getting into uni?” Dean chuckled, “Nah. That was Sammy’s dream, not mine. Also, there’s no chance I would get into one. Sammy’s the brain in the family. I got the looks.”

The hook was out. Dean’s hands were stopping the blood before Dean could register them doing it.

“I believe you’re being too judgmental about your abilities.”

Dean chuckled again, “Thanks, but it’s true.”

Castiel shifted and Dean lifted his head. Blue eyes were staring right at him, “It’s _not_. You’re smart, Dean. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

Dean suppressed a smile. Half an hour ago this guy was dying on him. Now he was lecturing him on self-love.

“You just know me too little.”

He could feel angel’s glare without even looking at his face, “I think I know you well enough to judge your abilities. For one, you were smart enough to catch an angel. That is not something anyone can accomplish.”

Dean breathed out, “Yeah. Ain’t gettin’ no Noble prize for that.”

Dean’s hand moved to the second hook, once he was sure that the wound had stopped bleeding and bandaged well. Castiel lay back down on the bed and Dean had to keep his wings from moving and hurting the angel even more.

Castiel let out a tiny whimper and Dean sighed. _Talk, dude._

“I thought… I thought about opening a garage. I like fixing cars, so maybe…” Dean swallowed, words coming difficultly.

“Why didn’t you?” Castiel whispered.

Dean shrugged, his fingers curling around the last hook, “Don’t know… I mean, hunting’s easy. It’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. And settling down…” Dean licked his lips nervously, throwing the last hook away and pressing onto the last wound, “It’s just not something someone with my history could do.”

Castiel breathed out, wings relaxing against Dean’s hands finally. Dean finished the bandage and examined them. Other then the hooks it didn’t look like they’ve been bruised any other way. Dean folded the wing gently. They looked so strange, having white bandaged stripes all over the black feathers. Dean’s fingers caressed them slightly before he could stop himself.

He threw his hand away.

“All right. I’m no angel doctor, but try not to move them for couple of days, until the wounds heal a little bit,” Dean breathed out, stretching his shoulders and back. He didn’t even realize how tired he had gotten until now, “Can you move?”

Castiel nodded.

“Show me your hands,” Dean said, cleaning his hands from blood and feathers with one of the cloths.

Castiel moved then, sitting up slowly mindful of the wings. He moved closer to Dean, lowering his legs on the floor. He stretched his hands over for Dean to examine.

Dean touched them gently. They were cold. The wrists had dried blood on them as well. There was a broken sigil drawn bellow one of the wrists and Dean smiled softly recognizing it. He figured out that that was exactly the way Cas had gotten himself out.

That dude was freakishly smart.

Dean licked his lips and said nothing. Instead, he cleaned the blood on the wrists and arms with the cloth and bandaged them thoroughly.

Dean was aware of Castiel staring at him during the process. It felt too intimate being in a position like that. Sitting between Castiel’s legs, holding his hands. Dean tried not to think about it.

“When do we have to leave?” Castiel asked quietly.

“We’re not leaving until you get better,” Dean stated, “We still have to figure out the…”

He stumbled with the words.

“What happened to the bond?” Castiel finished.

Dean nodded. He finished with the wrists and examined Castiel’s hands again. They seemed to be fine. No matter how much Dean didn’t want to let them go, there was nothing allowing him to hold on to them anymore.

“Exactly. Let me see your shoulder.”

Castiel turned to the side one of his legs folding underneath him and Dean sat behind him. Wings shifted shakily to give him better access. Dean untied the dirty bandage and examined the wound. It looked even worse than before. Dean cursed mentally. Looked like it had been bleeding recently, which could not be possible.

Dean treated the wound anyway and used a new bandage. Castiel didn’t even flinch once.

“You’re like a walking bandage commercial,” Dean chuckled.

He heard Castiel huff out a laugh and warmth spread over his chest.

Once Dean was done he leaned down cleaning all the supplies he had been using. It was a complete mess on the floor. Dean put all the used stuff in a bag, wiping the drops of blood off the floor a bit.

“There’s a pair of clean pants in the drawer, if you want to change.”

“Dean, please,” Castiel said suddenly, his hand falling on Dean’s shoulder, “Let me help you.”

“No, no!” Dean said too loud and winced at once, Castiel looked at him puzzled, “Lie down and get some rest. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry, okay?”

Castiel stared at him with those baby blues, and Dean’s breath hitched. Fuck, he had missed them so much.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, “For everything.”

Dean smiled, “No need for that. Kinda clearing up the mess I’ve made here.”

Castiel huffed out annoyingly, “You’re so unbelievably stubborn.”

Dean grinned and Castiel’s features softened. He looked at Dean so gently, Dean’s chest tightened. He cleared his throat and stood up.

“I’m gonna go now,” he stated, taking everything and walking towards the door, “If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

Castiel was still sitting in the same position he had been. All bandaged and pale. Dean turned away not being able to look at him.

“I’ll be right next door. Don’t hesitate, all right?”

It was silent so Dean glanced at the angel again. Blue eyes were staring right at him, head tilted to the side.

“I’m thankful, Dean. Please accept it.”

Dean swallowed, “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Get some rest.”

Door shut behind him and Dean breathed out. He had no idea what he was going to do. Were they going to go back to that tattoo artist, were they going to leave it like this for now? After all, it was the cure they had been searching for, wasn’t it?

Then there was the problem with Lucifer standing. Was he going to chase Cas? He just couldn’t let him go like that, could he now?

Dean decided not to think about it right now. What mattered right now was that Castiel was safe.

Dean threw away the used rags and poured the red water out. When he got back into the living room, all six eyes were on him. Dean breathed out and threw himself onto the first vacant coach that came into view. His back hurt badly, eyes were heavy. He had no energy to talk, no matter how much his audience was ready for the story.

“Are we getting any explanation?” Ellen asked, her voice raw.

Dean sighed deeply.

“I accidentally bonded with him. And then when we tried to undo it he was captured by one of his own. I brought him back.”

It was silent and then Jo was speaking.

“You… you bonded with an angel?” she sounded amused more than surprised and Dean suppressed a smile.

Couple of days ago he would be nervous, furious and confused.

“Yeah,” Dean replied simply, cracking one of his eyes open, “His name is Cas, by the way. And he’s really cool.”


	13. “I know there’s no way you could forgive me for what I did.”

Dean almost fell asleep right there on the coach until Ellen told him that it was time to have some time to himself. She prepared a room for him, right next to Castiel’s and Dean smiled thankfully.

Sam pulled him in the hallway, looking tired and concerned.

“How is he?” he asked quietly, eyes flicking towards the door to Cas’ room.

Dean chuckled and patted his brother on the shoulder, “Gonna be fine. Needs some rest, though.”

Sam shook his head, “What the hell happened there?”

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead nervously then shrugged.

“Have no idea myself. Met Lucifer by the way,” he huffed out a tired laugh. Sam’s eyes got cartoonish-like wide, “Yeah, yeah. Story for tomorrow. But, it looks like your uni roommate was right about – well – all of it.”

Sam frowned. “Do you know why Lucifer took Cas? Why did he do all of that to him?”

Dean shook his head, “Didn’t wanna talk about it, you know.”

Sam nodded understandingly.

“The thing is, Sammy,” Dean said licking his lips, “Lucifer didn’t have wings.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, “ _What_?”

“And,” Dean said before Sam could ask any more questions, “I think he was attempting to do the same to Cas.”

Sam frowned again, “That’s… Are you sure he was an angel?”

Dean recalled the way his body was thrown away by the red light and nodded, “Pretty sure. And he may be Cas’ uncle.”

Well, if Sam’s eyes weren’t wide before, they were now.

                                                     ╠══════════╣

Castiel was tired. He was so, _so_ tired.

Everything in his body begged to have a good night sleep. But he just couldn’t fall asleep. His wings ached no matter how Castiel changed his position.

It was frustrating.

He sighed in defeat and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. That was the moment he heard voices right next to his door. Dean was talking to Sam, he assumed. Castiel didn’t want to eardrop but their voices were too close to miss.

Castiel understood Dean quite well, but Sam’s English was more difficult to understand.

What he got though, they were talking about him.

“I don’t know, Sammy. It’s–– it’s complicated,” Dean said.

Castiel swallowed and turned to his side. He didn’t want to hear any of it. But Dean’s voice was so clear. It was like the bond was back, a clear window inside Dean’s soul.

“Can you just…?”

“I don’t know. It’s… He needs to get better.”

Castiel pursed his lips.

He didn’t know why Dean was being so nice to him, why he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of Castiel. Maybe he was trying to redeem himself. Maybe it was the side effect of being bonded. Or maybe he still expected to get information out of Castiel.

Either way, if those were the cases, Castiel didn’t need Dean’s care.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, okay? I’m too tired to discuss this right now.” Dean’s voice was low and apologetic.

Castiel shut his eyes close.

He didn’t need Dean’s care, he told himself.

As he fell asleep his mind was occupied with the way Dean moved around him carefully, touched him like Castiel was some kind of precious glass vase; talked to him to make him forget about the pain. Every little thing Dean did to him was making him crazy and Castiel wished he could have it forever.

Castiel murmured his name in his sleep.

╠══════════╣

The morning came too fast. Castiel cracked his eyes open to the feeling of soreness in his entire body. His wings refused to listen, holding tightly onto his back. His legs stretched lazily and Castiel whimpered as something snapped in his back.

Castiel felt like he was 80-years-old.

He sat up slowly and tried unfolding his wings. They refused to do so and got back to his back like bad behaved children.

Castiel sighed and looked around.

The room was small but neat with huge windows and white curtains. He could see sky and trees from where he was sitting, and his world for a mere second narrowed to that one day in his childhood when he had felt utterly happy. When all he had cared about were the songs of the birds and the way his mother hugged him softly.

Castiel smiled despite himself.

He stood up slowly and walked towards the door. Wings shifted a bit but it was bearable. Dean had told him that he needed some rest, but Castiel was not going to lie in the bed all day and pity himself.

When he walked into the living room, all eight eyes were on him at once. Castiel lifted his hand hesitantly.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean was up and running to him, “You should be resting!”

“It is not for you to decide. I am fine.”

Dean frowned pursing his lips. There were bags under his eyes and a tired stubble on his cheeks. Castiel felt tingling in the tips of his fingers and clenched his hand into a fist.

“Like hell you are. You look anything but fine,” Dean snarled.

“You’re the one to talk, Dean,” Castiel answered simply.

Dean’s features softened like he was taken aback, “I’m fine.”

They glared at each other until noise attracted their attention and Dean turned around. The woman Castiel remembered from yesterday stood up and walked towards them. She was speaking in English and Castiel had to concentrate to understand her.

As far as he could guess, she was telling Dean off. After she had finished she turned to Castiel and smiled softly, saying something to him. Castiel straightened at once. She was a hunter or maybe used to be one. It didn’t matter. She was a hunter. Castiel felt the desire to unfold his wings, but even if he had tried doing something of the kind, his wings wouldn’t listen anyway.

“He doesn’t understand you, Ellen,” Dean said attracting Castiel’s attention.

“Oh,” the woman said and then asked Dean something talking too fast for Castiel to catch.

Dean ran his hands through his hair nervously, explaining that it had to be the bond, allowing them to communicate. He didn’t really know how it worked, but they had no language barrier problem by far. The woman asked something else, and Castiel managed to catch the ‘shut down’. Dean shrugged.

“I have no idea. Looks like it doesn’t affect it,” he turned to Castiel then and smiled, “It’s okay, Cas. She’s a friend.”

Castiel only now realized that he had made couple of steps back. He was standing almost behind Dean. The woman was looking at him still smiling, and Castiel made himself step forward.

“Uh,” Castiel started. His English wasn’t good, he had never had an opportunity to speak it, so even being able to read the language Castiel still found it quite difficult to talk. “If you… speak slowly. We can talk.”

And then there were eight _very surprised_ eyes staring at him. Castiel felt taken aback. He glanced at Dean and Dean licked his lips trying and failing not to smile. Castiel felt his cheeks turn pink.

“All right,” Ellen said slowly, “You must be starving. Breakfast?”

Castiel nodded, “Gladly.”

The woman gave Dean a pointed look and turned around. She was smiling, as was everybody else in the room, which… was confusing. Castiel didn’t mind it really, although he was kind of missing the point of the shared joy.

Dean and Castiel walked behind Ellen and others. Dean punched him in the arm when they fell back a little.

“Dude! I didn’t know you could speak English,” he whispered almost eagerly.

Castiel turned his head to the side, attempting to ignore Dean’s excitement. He knew that Dean was grinning. His eyes must be shining, Castiel wondered. Castiel also knew what that sight could do to him, so he simply decided to ignore it.

“I told you I enjoyed reading books of your kind,” he answered simply.

Dean chuckled and shook his head, “You’re so cool, man.”

Castiel felt warmth spread inside of his chest. Dean was being too kind to him and Castiel feared that he was falling for it too easy.

“It’s nothing.”

Even though he said it, Dean was still smiling. Could that be that Dean was proud of him? Or amazed by him? Castiel didn’t know any of that. It could be just that Dean was simply amused by some uncivilized barbaric animal to be in possession of that kind of knowledge.

It could be any of that, and Castiel knew better than to get his expectations up.

They shared a very delicious and very noisy meal.

He was introduced to another human. Her name was Jo and she was Ellen’s daughter. She didn’t look like a hunter so Castiel didn’t mind her. She was even fun, making jokes that had Dean glare and pout and even couple of times get embarrassed.

Which was actually quite amusing to watch.

Sam was very delicate and cautious of the questions he was asking. He wanted to know everything about angels, and there were no hidden motives to his questions either. Dean had told Castiel that Sam had gave up the hunter business long time ago, so Castiel answered him as honestly as he could.

Sam had even tried to speak Enochian, which was… adorable. But also very considerate of him.

Ellen didn’t talk much, just watched over them like a mother hen.

None of them stared at Castiel’s wings or gave him funny looks, or even teased him. So after some time Castiel persuaded himself to relax. His shoulders fell a bit and he smiled to another one of Jo’s jokes glancing at Dean in time to see his cheeks turn pink.

“Oh shut up, Jo.”

It was unusually domestic, even reminded Castiel of his own family. As loud and as loving.

Castiel wondered if they were all right. If they missed him. If there would be time that he could return. Because, frankly, he didn’t know if he could.

They had abandoned him, left him in the hands of the humans.

Did they even want him back?

“Um,” Dean’s voice attracted his attention, “You okay there, buddy?”

Castiel nodded. He must have zoned out.

“Yes, I’m just…” everybody was staring at him again. But this time they were clearly worried. Castiel felt love and care pour into his heart. “I think I need to lie down.”

It was too much. Castiel thanked everybody for the meal and left the room, before he could do something he would regret. He didn’t even look at them.

God, Castiel was such a coward.

“Cas, wait!” Dean caught up with him in the hallway. Castiel stopped, his hand gripped the handle. “Hey, you okay?”

Castiel was about to shrug it off, say that of course he was okay. Just tired. He needed some rest, that’s all. Wasn’t Dean the one who had told him just that?

And then he looked at Dean. The guy was staring at him like the whole world could just crumble around them. And it wasn’t fucking fair. Dean wasn’t fair to him. He had no right to treat Castiel the way he did. He had no right to be so gentle and kind to him. They were nobody to each other.

Once they figured out the way to deal with the bond Dean would get into his car and drive away. He was going to settle down, open his garage or whatever. Find a pretty woman and marry her. And lead a normal _human_ life.

And even if he wasn’t going to leave Castiel, Castiel was going to leave himself.

They were no one to each other.

Then why the hell did his heart tighten so painfully whenever Dean looked at him that way?

Castiel squeezed his jaws and shook his head.

“No, Dean. I’m not okay.” Castiel turned his head away because he wasn’t going to let Dean and his stupid worried green eyes destroy him. “I’m tired. My body hurts. My wings hurt. I was shot and held hostage and tortured in a matter of days. I am anything _but_ okay. And I just want to lie down and not to think about my life. Can I do that?”

Castiel opened the door to his room and managed to make one step inside intentionally avoiding looking at Dean. And then there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, if we did something to upset you or… or if _I_ did something. I know I have no right to say…” Dean’s voice was shaking when he spoke and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, “I mean I shot you and all those terrible things… I’m not denying them…”

Yes, Dean did all of those terrible things. He was a hunter. He was a killer. He was an abuser. He made Castiel’s life a living hell. Castiel had almost lost his wings because Dean brought him into this mess. It was all because of him.

No, no, no. It was not Dean’s fault. Not all of it.

“And I know I have no right to ask of you of anything… I mean,” Dean’s hand left Castiel’s shoulder, “I understand… not that I understand what you’ve been through… It must have been hard and terrifying. I’m just sayin’…”

Dean ran his hand through his hair and Castiel hated himself for seeing how nervous Dean was. How he clearly was _trying_ to make it right, to atone himself.

There was no way Castiel was forgiving him.

“I know there’s no way you could forgive me for what I did.”

It wasn’t fair.

“And I’m not asking for that… I’m _not_.”

The bond was shut down, Castiel reminded himself.

“I just want to help… And if you need anything–– and I mean _anything_ ––”

Warmth flooded his soul and Castiel could only hold and wait for it to stop crushing him.

“I promise I’ll do everything I can. It’s the least I could do.”

It didn’t stop though. The more Dean talked, the more Castiel felt like he was going to be crushed by the gentleness, by the affection and tenderness of Dean’s voice.

“I understand if you wouldn’t want though. So it’s okay.”

It wasn’t fair.

Castiel had every right to hate him. No matter how gentle his hands were, no matter careful he was, how attentive. Castiel had every right to be angry.

And he… he just wasn’t.

“Yeah, that’s–– that’s pretty much what I wanted––”

“You––” Castiel’s voice broke and realized that he was shaking, “You’ve already done. Everything.”

“Cas, I––”

“Dean.” Castiel couldn’t handle it anymore. “Just. Please. Leave me be.”

Castiel forgave Dean. He forgave Dean for everything he had done to him long before Dean had asked him to. But Castiel couldn’t say it. Because if he did, everything would change. And Castiel was too selfish to let that happen.

So he wasn’t going to say it.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. I–– yeah. Sorry.”

More than anything in the world Castiel wanted to say that he wasn’t angry. That he was confused, not angry. He wanted to ask Dean to understand, to give him some time to figure it out.

More than anything in the world Castiel wanted to touch Dean as gentle and soft as Dean had touched him. To make him feel all that affection Dean had been drowning him in. To show him what it feels like being on the other end.

Because it felt confusing. It felt crushing.

Castiel couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll–– I’ll go.”

They were nobody to each other.

Castiel turned around when Dean was already walking away. He breathed out, his head leaned on the door.

He was stronger than that. He wasn’t going to say it. He was stronger than that.

They were nobody to each other.

“Dean, stop.”

And just like that Dean stopped and tuned around. His eyes were big and sad and Castiel hated himself.

He straightened and walked inside the room. “Come in.”

Dean looked a bit confused but walked forward. Castiel sat down on the bed and Dean closed the door behind himself. Castiel rubbed the back of his neck nervously, collecting his thoughts.

“You caught me to complete your mission, right?” he asked. When he looked at Dean the man just nodded. His lips were pursed. “You wanted to find information about a certain angel, is that correct?”

Dean breathed out. He looked irritated, “Cas––”

“Well, you can ask me now,” Castiel said.

The air between them was heated. Dean looked at him with the mixture of annoyance and bitterness and Castiel had to make himself hold that gaze.

Dean shook his head, “It doesn’t matter anymore, okay?”

“It does.”

Dean stiffened. He pulled his hand into a fist. “Why the fuck would it matter _now_? After everything––”

“Ask me.”

“No!”

Castiel huffed out. “You’re making this harder than it should be, Dean.”

“Because I see no fucking point in it,” Dean snarled.

It was very simple, Castiel told himself. Dean was going to have his answers and stop all this act. And Castiel would be free from him and his pretend care.

“Wasn’t that the reason you came after me and got me back? Didn’t you do that to get your answers? Isn’t that the reason you’re trying to be so _good_ to me? Isn’t that the reason for all of this? So go ahead. I will tell you everything I know.”

Dean was going to get his answers and then they were going to deal with the bond and everything would be over, Castiel told himself. Dean would stop making Castiel feel like his heart was going to burst open whenever Dean touched him or looked at him. Everything would go back to normal after Dean got his answers.

Only Dean didn’t ask him anything.

When Castiel dared to lift his gaze Dean was still standing there.

He was not angry or frustrated. His hands weren’t squeezed into fists anymore. If anything, Dean looked hurt.

And that was the very moment Castiel realized what a fucking idiot he was.

“You know what, Cas?” Dean whispered, his throat tight, “Go fuck yourself.”

Castiel didn’t expect the pain that pierced through his heart.

“If you think that low of me, I’ll leave you be, all right?” Dean shook his head and chuckled humorless, “Get better and get the fuck outta here.”

The door shut with a loud thud.

Castiel had no idea it could hurt that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been absent. Life happening all around me... Got a job, had some kind of relationships. then broke them up, then had to pull myslf together out of the pit I've created and yada-yada-yada... Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. And again, really sorry for taking so long!


	14. “I’m gettin’ him back to his family.”

What the fuck.

What the _fuck_.

Dean had no idea… God he was a _stupid fucking moron_. To think that Cas could…

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Fuck it hurt.

Dean got his jacket on got out of Ellen’s house and into his car. Engine came to life and Dean drove away. He had no idea where he was going unless it was anywhere but here.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He punched the wheel hard enough to hurt his hands. He didn’t care one bit.

He had been trying so fucking hard. And he hadn’t even thought twice. He just wanted to make Cas feel safe, just wanted to make it all _right_. Just wanted to make sure Cas was fine.

He had just wanted to see that smile of his. That was all. He didn’t care about John’s mission, about that fucking yellow-winged angel. For all he cared about the angel could be long dead, Dean didn’t give any flying fucks about that shithead.

Because all he could think about was Cas.

“ _Fuck_ …”

What the hell was wrong with him? To think that an angel could trust him? To think that an angel could actually fucking care for him?

Dean was a fucking joke.

The bond was gone. All those feelings and emotions, all that crap that made them feel like they were star crossed lovers or shit of that kind was long gone. And Castiel was cleansed of all of it.

And Dean was fucking diseased.

Because even now, feeling betrayed and angry and fucking _hurt_ , even now he couldn’t stop wanting to see Cas’ smile.

“Shit…”

He stopped Impala at the side of the road and threw his head onto the wheel.

Sam was right. Of course, he was right. Dean was confused that’s all. The bonding, living together, his pathetic need to take care – all of that just fogged his mind. And Castiel had straightened it back up.

Nothing bad had actually happened, right?

It was just stupid crush. It was going to pass, and Dean was going to get free of it.

Dean stared at the sigil in the center of his hand and rubbed it with his thumb. Stupid doodle turned his life upside-down. Dean wondered what it was going to feel like once it was gone. Was it going to feel as empty as that place in his chest that once had been filled with warmth and brightness?

Castiel had told him one day that he had missed the bond. Dean would rather die than admit that he had felt the same way. Maybe he should have said it.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

╠══════════╣

He returned to Ellen’s house next morning. It was still dark outside. Dean hoped that everybody were still sleeping and he could sneak in without having to have any kind of talks.

When he walked in it was quiet. He slipped through the hall and into his room. Once the door closed behind him, he breathed out. His phone was lying where he had left it on the nightstand. Dean checked it and winced.

26 missed calls and 13 texts from Sam. 8 missed calls from Ellen. 11 texts from Jo.

Yeah, he was definitely going to be killed today.

Dean fell onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He sighed and was ready to fall asleep when he heard the sound of the door to Cas’ room open. Dean was sitting on his bed before he realized what he was doing.

It was Sam’s voice, Dean was certain. And Cas’. Then the door closed and Dean was out of his room before he could stop himself.

Sam’s eyes were huge and tired when he turned around. Dean was ready for a huge-ass lecture on his part. He was ready to hear all the worst, but Sam was surprisingly calm. He didn’t even say anything, just stood there and looked at Dean. He nodded towards the living room.

Dean walked silently behind him.

Once they were there, Sam fell onto the coach and rubbed his head.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Dean asked, a sickening feeling settling in his belly.

Sam shook his head and then stared at Dean. “I hoped that you could tell me.”

Dean just shrugged.

Sam sighed, “Thought so.”

There were bags under his eyes and Dean felt like an asshole yet again. Cas was hurt and he had left him here alone. Left him for everybody else to figure out what to do.

But it wasn’t like the angel was his responsibly. Right?

“Cas is… he got worse after you left,” Sam said quietly and Dean sat down trying to ignore the lump in his throat, “The wounds in his body are fine. They are healing slowly but surely. But his wings…” Sam sighed, “They started bleeding again, and we… we can’t stop it.”

Fuck.

Dean rubbed his face.

 “He hasn’t eaten since breakfast. I know angels don’t need much food, but he lost so much blood that I thought…” Sam swallowed nervously, “I couldn’t examine him, he didn’t let me.”

Sounded like Cas. 

“He lost too much blood, and I don’t… It’s not like we can take him to a hospital… I just don’t know what to do,” Sam shook his head lifting his gaze on Dean.

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead thinking fast, “Okay… okay. This is what we’re gonna do. I’ll take him to his family. They have a healer, I think she’ll be more helpful than all of us. And you will go get that shaman voodoo tattoo artist and join us.” Sam looked at him with his signature bitch-face and Dean shrugged, “I don’t care how you do it, offer her money, have sex with her, punch her – I don’t care. Just make her come with you. I’ll text you our coordinates. Is everything clear?”

Dean stood up.

Sam mirrored him, “Yes. But–– Dean, going to angels… alone? I mean, are you sure that—?”

“I’ll handle the angels. We’re leaving in an hour. Go get ready.”

Dean walked out of the living room. He was going to end all of this. He didn’t care if angels would kill him. After all, once this was over he would have nowhere to go anyway. So what the hell, right?

Dean knocked on Castiel’s door and walked in without waiting for an answer. Terrible rotten smell hit his nose and Dean winced. The angel was lying on his belly, wings spread over the bed. The bondages were colored red and brown all over, feathers looked sticky.

Cas didn’t move, “I’m not hungry, Sam.”

“Uh… hey.”

Cas’ head lifted from the pillows. In the dim light of the room, Dean could see the shadows under his eyes, tired lines on his face. Blue eyes were dark and exhausted.

If Dean was furious and disappointed before, it all disappeared the moment his eyes fell onto Cas. All Dean was feeling now was complete need to make Cas’ pain disappear.

Fuck.

“Sam told me about…” Dean waved his hand vaguely.

Cas looked at him thoroughly and then dropped his eyes. He moved up on his hands and sat on the bed. Wings moved heavily like thousand-year-old statues coming back to life. Dean pursed his lips. He had no right to say anything. He just stood there watching as Castiel sat straighter and took several breaths.

“Dean,” he whispered and Dean wanted to run away from that voice, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Dean felt his hand squeeze into fist.

“There’ll be plenty time to talk,” he said turning to the door. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

Castiel frowned, his head tilting to the side, “Where?”

“I’m taking you back to your family,” Dean answered simply. He opened the door.

“Dean.”

“Try to get some rest. The ride’s not gonna be an easy one.”

The door shut behind him heavily and Dean hated that sound. He walked into his room like a drowning man reaching for a safety net. He leaned on the door and breathed deeply trying to regain his confidence. Because for once in his life he had made a right decision.

It was all adding up: Castiel was going to get better with his family. He would be much safer far away from him. And that was okay. That was right.

Dean fell on the bed and just breathed.

It was just a crush. It was going to go away.

One hour had passed much quicker than Dean had anticipated. When he walked out of his room, Sam was already waiting for him in the living room. He packed a bag of bandages and several drugs with him just in case.

Dean knocked on Castiel’s door and walked in. The angel was sitting on his bed, wings secured behind his back tightly. Bandages looked terrible, some of them weren’t even holding on anymore. Castiel looked even worse than an hour ago.

Dean had to look away. “Come on.”

Castiel moved slowly avoiding looking at Dean. His shoulders and wings brushed Dean slightly when he passed him and it took everything in Dean not to reach out for them.

Once Cas left the room, Dean walked in and grabbed couple of clean pants. Just in case.

Ellen and Jo were standing on the porch, silently watching as Sam helped Cas get into the car. Dean threw the bags into the trunk and closed it loudly. He was circling the car when Ellen stood in front of him.

“What are you doing, Dean?” she asked softly. Her hand fell on his shoulder and Dean squeezed his jaws. He waited for Sam to close the back door and get in the car.

“I’m gettin’ him back to his family.”

Ellen shook her head, “It’s a suicide and you know it. Even more suicide than your previous stunt. And I haven’t even lectured you on that one yet.”

Dean shrugged, “I’ll be all right.”

“You’re as stubborn as John,” she sighed. “Okay. If you care about your life that little, can you at least pretend to care about us? While you’re there doin’ your stunts, we’re here worrin’ sick about you, ya know.”

That woman knew where to push.

“It’s not about me, Ellen. Cas needs help,” Dean stated, “We can’t get him better. They can.”

Ellen was pissed, but she knew he was right. She sighed and nodded. “Okay, just. Don’t tease them too much, okay? And call me the moment you get there.”

That much he could do. Ellen hugged him a little bit too tight and walked away. Jo waved to him and stepped up. She was smiling, but her eyes were sad.

“Hey, dummy.” She chuckled, “Have to give it to ya, you’re still full of surprises.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile too. All his guard was down at once. Being with Jo, just talking to her always made him feel like he was at home, like that was right how it had supposed to be. Jo was the little sister Dean had always wanted. All silly jokes and hard punches. Dean loved her too much to ever tell her that.

He was sure she knew though.

“Well, you know me. Always on the road,” Dean shrugged.

Jo nodded, “Yep. That’s you.”

She looked at him her eyes big and bright. There was so much behind those eyes, the things Jo would never let Dean know. And in that way they were too much alike.

Her gaze flickered to the backseat window.

“You care about him that much, huh?” and that wasn’t a question, “And I can see why. You were right, he _is_ cool. You know, for an angel.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. Jo bit on her bottom lip and punched Dean in the arm.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Dean nodded. Jo leaned down and waved to Cas. Dean got into the car and started the engine. Ellen and Jo stood aside as the car left the parking lot. Dean watched them in the rearview mirror until they disappeared around the corner.

The drive to Bobby’s cabin would take about two hours.

Dean sighed and shifted in his sit. He turned up the music, ignoring Sam’s puppy look that he had been shooting Dean since the car started moving.

“What’s the plan again?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Plan is what it was. You go after the girl. I get Cas to his family. Cas gets better. You join us. We get the bond off. Happily go on with our lives. You’ve missed enough classes already.”

Sam gave him a look but said nothing. Cas was sleeping at the backseat. Dean stared at the road. Rock music played loudly through the speakers.

It was going to be all right.

╠══════════╣

The ride was quiet for the most part. They made one stop because Sam insisted on checking on Cas. Not that Dean wasn’t thinking about the angel himself, but truth be told he was glad that Sam brought it up before he did.

Dean watched as Sam got Cas something to eat and checked on his wellbeing. He suppressed a smile thinking that maybe if Sam had been bonded to Cas it could have been much easier for the angel. Sam would be a much greater partner.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, Sam shot him a look before getting out of the car. Dean knew what that look had to mean. He got out of the car and followed his brother.

They stopped couple of steps aside from Impala when Sam turned around.

“How long’s the drive from here?” he asked.

“About five or six hours, no more.”

Sam looked worried, “His bleeding stopped for some reason. I don’t know if that’s for long. He was too weak to explain why. Maybe he’ll talk to you, though. Not that you care.”

Dean shrugged, “He’s gonna be home soon.”

“So what?” Sam’s voice was getting louder.

“So, his family will take care of him.”

Sam shook his head. “What… What happened between you, guys?” Dean shrugged and Sam bitch-faced him, “The other day you were willing to die for him. And now you’re fine with abandoning him in the state he’s in?”

Dean squeezed his jaws. “Nobody’s abandoning him.”

“Well, you look like you might!” Sam shouted shaking his ridiculously long hands, “You’re the only one he allows to touch his wings. Instead of helping, you go out and disappear when he needs you. And when you come back you don’t even look at him. I’m not blind Dean! And I know you well enough to expect you to bullshit me no matter how many times I ask. So just… Please, these six hours, can you at least pretend that you care? Otherwise there’ll be nobody to be taking home.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? Great.” Sam hugged him just like Ellen – a little bit too tight – and got into his car. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam’s car left the parking lot and Dean started the engine. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Cas was not sleeping. He was looking out of the window. His wings were tugged to his back tightly. In the narrow space of the car they looked huge and even intimidating, despite the state they were in.

Music had played for some time and then Dean shut it off. The engine roared, wind whistled into the open window; sometimes other cars bypassed them.

It was too silent.

Dean glanced at the clock. It had been twenty-five minutes. Five hours and thirty-five minutes to go. Dean gripped the wheel tighter.

Fuck, it was hard not thinking about Castiel.

“Can we talk now?” Castiel asked suddenly. His voice was much hoarser than usually.

Dean shifted in his sit. “Shoot.”

Cas sighed. “First of all, I’m sorry I messed your car. I’ll clean it.”

Dean wanted to chuckle, Dean wanted to joke about it. Wanted to tease Cas about cleaning his car in tight shorts. Instead, he made himself look away from the rearview mirror and grumbled something like _don’t worry about it_.

It was quiet for some time and Dean wondered if Cas fell asleep again. Or if something had happened. Maybe his wings started bleeding. Maybe he fainted.

Dean lifted his gaze to the mirror.

Castiel was looking down at his hands, his pink cheeks standing out against the paleness of his face. His eyebrows were knitted, a little wrinkle formed between them.

“I…”

Dean looked at the road.

He didn’t need Cas’ apologies. Didn’t need to hear excuses. Too late for that, he told himself.

“I was five when Lucifer attacked us,” Castiel said quietly, “He and other angels and hunters. They attacked us without any warnings. Michael had… overpowered him, but… a lot of angels fell that day. On both sides. As a punishment for treason, Lucifer was deprived of his wings. Everybody had to watch. Even kids. It was a sight that still haunts my dreams.”

Castiel shifted, wings moving a bit. Dean noticed how the angel’s breath hitched and looked away, words of comfort stuck on his tongue.

“After that any encounter with the outside world was prohibited. We were denied our right to communicate or contact with people or any angels outside of the tribe.”

Castiel swallowed.

“I broke the rule. Several times. Contacted one human every month or so. Told him about our kind a bit. In exchange he gave me books.”

Dean pursed his lips. That must be how he had found them. Because of the information Castiel was giving out, Dean was able to track it through the community and find Cas’ family.

Cas was the reason Dean had found them.

“Michael knew. But… he didn’t want to banish me with such a disgrace.” The angel licked his lips, “You gave him the perfect opportunity for that.”

Dean let out a silent shaky breath.

“I do not blame you. He most certainly would have done it someday. He was just postponing the inevitable.”

Dean swallowed. “You think that Michael won’t let you in.”

Castiel nodded silently.

Fuck.

Now Dean got it. Cas was just scared.

Something tugged in his chest. Sorrow and regret. And pain. They did not belong to Dean. Dean squeezed his jaws as something in his chest expanded, letting all those feelings pour inside of him.

Dean gripped the wheel tighter letting the bond settle in again.


End file.
